


we both knew the cost

by irishmizzy, miss_bennie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 63,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishmizzy/pseuds/irishmizzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_bennie/pseuds/miss_bennie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis expected certain things from the hiatus: songwriting sessions with Liam, long meetings for his new label, and lots of time in LA with Freddie. He never thought “getting together with Harry” would be on that list. Or that it would be followed quickly by “breaking up with Harry.”</p><p>It’s been nearly a year since they spoke, but when Niall’s save-the-date comes, Louis knows it’s only a matter of time before he and Harry have to talk about everything that’s happened between them. It doesn’t help that One Direction’s hiatus has an end-date and that, too, is rapidly approaching. The last thing he wants to do is spend an entire week trapped in an Irish castle where he’ll be forced to deal with everything, but Niall and Liam aren’t giving him any choice in the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I know when it’s time to leave

**Author's Note:**

> [rubycurls](http://rubycurls.tumblr.com) drew all the unbelievably amazing art in this fic and we honestly cannot thank her enough! 
> 
> Thanks to [little-cather](http://little-cather.tumblr.com) and [sassafras-ash](http://sassafras-ash.tumblr.com/) for britpicking and betaing!
> 
> Title and chapter titles from "Shake" by The Head and the Heart.

Louis wakes up with a start, his whole body lurching like he’s had a nightmare or is on a plane in horrid turbulence. He listens carefully, waiting for the crying that usually follows, Freddie letting the whole wide world know he’s awake. Everything is quiet, though.

It’s weird, the small things he’s noticed that have changed since the break. Since Freddie was born. Like how before he used to be able to sleep through anything, and now he wakes up at the slightest thud. Freddie doesn’t even live with him full time and he’s still jumping if he hears a noise in the middle of the night. 

“Shhh,” he hears, soft in the distance. Oh. That makes sense.

Louis stays where he is for a moment, listening. Sometimes Harry can calm Freddie down, and sometimes. Well. He’s a fussy baby. 

When he stays quiet, Louis sighs. It’s not like he’s going to go back to sleep, not when the bed’s already cold. Who knows how long Harry’s been up with him. Even though he always says he doesn’t mind, it’s -- it’s not really fair to him. Not really.

Louis forces himself out of bed, into a pair of joggers, and towards the kitchen where he can hear Harry quietly pleading with Freddie to let go of his hair. 

“Morning,” he says, shuffling around them, tugging on the hem of Harry’s shirt and then tickling the bottom of Freddie’s foot. Judging by the look on Harry’s face, that only makes him tug harder. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Harry holds still while Louis works Freddie’s hand free. His eyes are still bleary; they can’t have been up for long. “It’s my fault for not putting it up first. We all know Kumquat’s got super-strength, doesn’t he?”

His voice changes pitch at the last bit as he tries to get a smile from Freddie. Louis shakes the finger he’s latched onto. “Maybe he just hates being called Kumquat.”

“No, don’t think that’s it.” 

“It could be.” Louis watches Freddie watch Harry with big eyes. Like a tiny traitor. Harry laughs, this gruff morning sound, leaning into Louis like he’s trying to steal some of his warmth. The air con must be on too high; Louis knows it’s already hotter than hell outside, the second bloody heat wave of the summer. Los Angeles is a great place to live his arse. 

“Morning,” Harry says, tilting his head just enough that he can rest it against the top of Louis’s. Louis can feel Harry’s lips brush his hair. He leans back a bit until he can kiss Harry a proper good morning. He drops one on Freddie’s forehead for good measure. 

“You didn’t have to get up with him.” He steps away, reaching for the cupboard. It doesn’t seem like Harry’s started a bottle or anything. Probably hadn’t had a chance. Freddie’s going to realize he’s starving soon and then they’ll be in for it. 

That’d happened the first time Harry came over on a night Louis had the baby. They’d woken up before him, shockingly, and had thought they’d have more time to fool around than they actually did. He thinks there might be a part of Harry that’s still scarred from the experience, Freddie’s ear-piercing sobs that had gone on for what felt like ages, so loud that Harry’d gotten startled and spilled the bottle all over the floor. 

“I know,” Harry says, reaching past Louis to flick the kettle on. He shifts Freddie in his arms, trailing his finger over his cheek. “I wanted to.”

He’d said the same thing when he showed up late in the afternoon, leaning on Louis’s buzzer for long enough that Louis was worried it’d wake Freddie from his nap. Louis appreciates the sentiment a lot more now than he had yesterday. 

“Well,” Louis takes a breath as Harry settles at the table, waiting for Louis to finish prepping the bottle, “cheers, then.”

An easy silence settles over the room while he feeds Freddie and Louis makes tea. It’s a different kind of morning than the ones Louis is used to, the ones that are just him and Harry and the comfortable hum of Harry’s house. After this summer Louis thinks Haz’s place is probably more of a home than this one, but he’s got everything for Freddie here, so when he’s here, Louis’s here. And sometimes, when they’re here, Harry’s here.

“Oh god.”

“What?” Louis asks without turning around. 

Harry makes a strangled noise. When Louis looks over, he’s holding Freddie away from himself, making a grossed-out face. Louis rolls his eyes. “Really, Haz?”

“Louis!” Harry sounds pathetic, his back arched like he’s trying to keep the sick on his shirt from touching his chest. He’s all about the kid until he does something like this, shits through his nappy or whatever. Louis tries to remind himself that it’s alright for him to hate the gross bits that come with a five month old. “Can you take him please?”

“He’s a baby,” he says, reaching for Freddie, “it’s what they do. That’s why we’ve got burp cloths everywhere.”

“I had one!” Harry points to the one dangling over his shoulder. “He just missed it entirely. Ugh, I have to change. And shower.”

“Seriously?” Louis laughs, watching Harry carefully peel off his shirt. “That’s not even the grossest thing you’ve had on your body in the past twenty-four hours.”

“Shut up.” Harry doesn’t sound amused at all. Louis makes a face at Freddie, earning the laugh he feels he deserves. At least _someone_ is in the mood for jokes. “Oh god, I think he got it in my hair. I can smell it Lou.” He makes a noise like he might puke, too.

“It’s just a bit of sick,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. He reaches for Harry, trying to grab his wrist but he’s not quick enough. “Oi, wait, leave your shirt, I’ll toss it in the wash.”

“It’s dry clean only,” Harry says through his teeth. The lines of his back are so tense. Louis finds himself wishing Harry weren’t standing so far away. It doesn’t occur to him to take a step forward until it’s too late. Harry disappears in a huff, grumbling to himself the whole time.

Louis sighs, reaching for his tea before settling himself in the seat Harry’d been in. “Did you do that on purpose?” he asks Freddie, reaching for his bottle. It’s not even half empty. He hopes he’s not getting sick; he’d hate to have to bring him back to Briana’s in a worse state than when he’d picked him up. “Trying to make Uncle Haz’s life a living hell?”

He kicks his feet against Louis’s ribs, laughing again. Sometimes he’s got no doubt in the world that Freddie’s his kid.

**

Harry’s calmer after his shower, smiling over the rim of his mug as Louis tidies up and Freddie kicks it in his baby swing. 

“You never clean like this at my place.”

“You have a housekeeper. And you don’t have a small monster who likes to put his mouth on every possible surface.”

Harry laughs, reaching out to flick Louis’s ear. “I think you put your mouth plenty of places, Lou.”

“Fuck off,” he mutters, belatedly feeling guilty. Whatever. It’s not like Freddie’s learning words any time soon. He’s only just mastered sitting up on his own. 

Harry, the bastard, just winks. Louis rolls his eyes. 

“I’ve got that meeting at eleven,” Harry says after a minute. Louis hums. “I’m gonna have to go home before so I can get a new shirt.”

“You could borrow something,” Louis offers. The face Harry makes is borderline insulting. Whatever. If he needs to wear designer shit to a Sunday morning meeting, that’s his prerogative. “God forbid you wear the one you had on yesterday.”

“It’s got food on it.”

“Oh, right.” Louis laughs; Harry’d managed to drop an entire forkful of takeaway on himself last night. “That was your fault though, not Freddie’s.” 

“Good news, he’s inheriting my motor skills.”

“Oh god, don’t even joke about it,” Louis says, ignoring the way his stomach flips at the idea of Freddie inheriting anything from Harry. He’s only five months old and sees Harry a couple weekends a month; it’s not… it’s not possible.

“I was going to offer to drop Kumquat off.” Harry shrugs. “Briana’s is on the way back to mine.”

“No,” Louis says immediately, so forcefully that Harry’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, that -- I mean, no thanks. I’ll bring him. I’ve got the seat in mine and it’s a pain to switch and I’d have to remember to get it back, and…” He trails off. It’s a bullshit excuse. They both know it wouldn’t be hard for Louis to get the car seat back. They both know he’ll be at Harry’s tonight, that he’ll probably go directly there from dropping Freddie off, but still. Freddie’s his kid. He’ll do drop-offs and pick-ups. 

“Alright,” Harry says easily. 

It’s not, though. There’s a weirdness in the room now, something thick and strange that Louis has started to notice more and more lately. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what, so he lets it go. Goes back to wiping off the table, refolding Harry’s dirty shirt where it’s hanging over the back of a chair.

After a long beat, Harry sighs. “I should go. Traffic’s going to be, like, terrible probably.”

“Sure.” Louis nods. The last thing he wants is for Harry to be late for his meeting. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” Harry sets his mug in the sink, crossing the room to give Louis a quick kiss. He kisses Freddie before he goes, too.

“Careful,” Louis says, “he might erupt again.”

Harry flips him off as he leaves. Louis is the only one laughing.

**

“Lou?”

“In here!” he yells back, hearing Harry kick off his boots and chuck his keys as he makes his way through the house. “How’d it go?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“You guess?” Louis swivels his chair around to look at Harry, who’s gone boneless on the small sofa in the office. It can’t be comfortable. Louis has tried to nap on that thing at least a dozen different times and it’s the absolute worst. “It was shit, wasn’t it?”

Harry’s silent for a moment before he groans. “It was horrible! I don’t know what was wrong. Every single thing we put down was like bah-bah-bahhhhhh.” It sounds like a dirge, the way he sings it. Louis fights back a laugh. 

“It happens sometimes, Haz.” 

“I don’t think we got one useable verse out of the whole session,” Harry says. “Like literally all of it was terrible. All of it, Louis. It was a waste of everyone’s time, I feel awful.”

“It wasn’t a waste.” Louis moves to sit next to Harry. “Shove over, come on.”

“Louis,” Harry whines, but he moves just enough that Louis can wedge himself in underneath Harry’s shoulders, Harry’s head resting on his lap.

“Jesus, you’re heavy.”

“If you’re just going to insult me --”

“Haz,” Louis cuts him off, his hand smoothing over Harry’s stomach, “everyone has shit days. You think me and Payno haven’t spent hundreds of hours in studios just fucking about? And don’t say that’s because we’re different, we’re not.” Harry closes his mouth again and Louis can’t help the snort that escapes. He knew it. “It happens. If you were all having an off day -- which it sounds like, because fuck knows it wasn’t just you in there -- then… I don’t know, fuck it.”

Harry’s chest heaves like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. “You sound like me in the studio today.”

“Sorry to waste your time, then.”

Harry cracks one eye open. Louis grins down at him. It’s surprisingly effective in cutting off whatever Harry was going to say.

They sit like that for a bit before Harry asks, “Were you working? I just barged in.”

“It’s just boring shit.” Louis waves his hand. “X Factor paperwork and the like.”

“Oooh, paperwork, your favorite.”

Louis snorts. “Wish I could get Liam to sign it all for me. He won’t though, I already asked. Something about forgery being illegal or some bullshit.”

“Some nerve he has.” Harry laughs, his hand settling on top of Louis’s on his stomach. His rings dig into Louis’s skin when he intertwines their fingers. “You still up for Irv’s party tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.” Louis shuffles lower on the sofa until he’s slightly more comfortable. 

“You don’t have to go.”

“I want to!” He’s not like, buzzing about it, but it beats staying home, waiting for Harry to get back. Or worse yet, going back to his place and watching telly until he passes out. 

Harry makes a sound like he doesn’t believe it. “One hour. That’s how long it is before you’re ready to leave.”

“Wait a --”

“You left early last time,” Harry says, tilting his head so he can meet Louis’s eyes.

“Well it was boring last time!” Louis ignores the face Harry pulls even though they both remember how early Louis left. “Are there going to be more than ten people at this party? Am I going to have to hear your twatty friends talking about cunt --”

“Kant,” Harry says calmly. 

“-- or bukakke --”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“-- or whatever the fuck all night? Because if not, I’ll make it at least an hour and a half.”

“Nope.” Harry shakes his head. “There’s no way. Even if it’s all industry people, there’s no way you’re going to make it that long. When was the last time you had to network?”

Louis scoffs but he knows Harry’s got a point. It’s been ages since he really had to put in any sort of effort. The hiatus has been great for working on a smaller scale, focusing on his label and writing with Liam and hanging out with Freddie. And Harry, obviously. This whole thing they’ve got going on has been a surprisingly excellent part of the break.

“See?” Harry raises his eyebrows like he’s a bloody mind-reader all of a sudden. “An hour and you’re turning a smoke break into a disappearing act.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “An hour and a half and I get a blow job on the ride home.”

“That hardly seems fair.” Harry sits up, mindful that his elbows don’t catch Louis in any delicate places. “What do I get if you leave early?”

“Doesn’t matter because I’m not going to leave early.”

Harry stares at him blankly. 

“Fine.” Louis sighs. “You get whatever you want, at whatever hour it is when you get home -- which,” he points his finger in Harry’s face, trying to ward off his grin, “won’t matter, because I’ll be there for an hour and a half.”

“We’ll see,” Harry sing-songs, biting at Louis’s fingertip. 

The stupid grin on his face only makes Louis more determined to win.

**

Louis is on a conference call when his phone buzzes. It’s just a picture from Harry, a tiny shirt in a pattern Louis thinks he recognizes from Harry’s closet. Fuck, it probably costs at least two hundred pounds. And that’s in the miniature size.

_He’s just going to puke all over it_ he sends back even though he knows it’s a futile argument. Harry’ll buy the shirt -- he probably already has -- and Freddie’ll destroy it the first day he wears it. 

_But he’ll look sick before that happens. And I already bought it so there’s no point complaining. It was the last one in his size! It was meant to be. You should be glad they were out of the version in your size. I didn’t check if they had B’s though, maybe I should go back in and check._

“Does that sound okay?” someone asks, jolting Louis back into the conversation. Fucking Harry and his novel-length texts. Bastard types exactly the way he talks.

“I might’ve missed the last bit, could you run it by me again?” Louis feels like shit for zoning out. Filming starts in a few weeks and he’s barely got a clue what’s going on. Everything seems like it’s still so far away. 

“Of course, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis sends a quick thumbs down emoji to Harry -- no one needs a shirt that matches the monstrosity he’s bought Freddie -- and then reaches for a pen so he can write down the important bits from the conference call. It’s the only way he’ll remember.

**

_I’m at Ralphs need anything?_ he texts Harry from the car park. 

It’s the middle of the week, so the place is mostly empty. Not that anyone really cares anymore; he stopped getting followed by paps once they realized his day-to-day life is actually pretty boring and he rarely takes Freddie anywhere with him. He’ll probably end up taking a few fan pics today, but that’s fine.

The dots indicating Harry’s typing appear as Louis walks into the store. They stay there while he makes his way up and down the first three aisles. All he’d wanted was to pop in, grab a couple bags of crisps, and get out. Harry’s good about stocking most of the things he likes, but he’s shit at junk foods, always trying to get Louis to eat healthy looking shit instead. It’s a nightmare. Just like waiting for Harry’s fucking response is a nightmare. He’s already been here three times as long as he wanted to be.

_????_

_Oh sorry I got a call and got sidetracked. I’m good, thank you!_

Louis stares at his phone for a minute, taking a deep breath and exhaling steadily. There’s no point in being annoyed. It’s not like Harry was doing it on purpose.

**

Louis stirs when Harry tries to slide out of bed at the ungodly hour of -- he looks at the clock, groaning when he realizes it’s nearly eight. He’s exhausted even though he and Harry went to bed at like, midnight last night. Stone sober. Christ. He’s felt more rested after actual benders than he does right now. How pathetic.

“Sorry,” Harry whispers, dragging his fingers over Louis’s spine. “It’s Niall.”

Louis is legitimately surprised Harry managed to stay in bed this long, but that doesn’t stop him from rolling over, groaning loudly as he stretches. “Tell Horan to learn about bloody time zones. Thought he was supposed to be the smart one.”

Harry laughs. “Louis says good morning.” 

“Louis says fucking hell, don’t protect him, Harold!” he yells. Harry just pats Louis’s ankle through the duvet before wandering out of the room, humming at whatever Niall’s said. 

He’s still on the phone by the time Louis makes his way into the kitchen, showered and in fresh joggers. Harry waves the second he sees him, doing something complicated with his hand.

“Niall and,” he whispers when Louis frowns, but Niall must say something because Harry stops gesturing and says, “But like, what are you doing today?”

“Niall and?” Louis prompts. Harry mouths something he doesn’t get. Maura? Jesus. Louis feels a bit sick. “Is his mum okay?”

Harry nods vehemently and Louis exhales. Thank fuck. The relief is short lived though, because Harry starts his charades up again and they’ve somehow gotten worse. 

“Are you spelling in the air?” Louis watches Harry write Niall’s name out with his finger. “Just give me the phone, Niall’ll tell me faster than this.”

“Yes, I’m listening, Niall, I’m just trying to tell Lou-- yeah, he’s standing right here. Alright, if you want.” Harry pulls his phone away from his ear. To Louis he says, “I’m putting him on speaker.”

“Morning, Ni,” Louis says. “Thanks for the wake up call.”

Harry, who’s taken a seat next to him at the island, kicks him gently in the leg. He leaves his foot hooked around Louis’s ankle. His toes are cold.

“I hooked up with Laura last night, mate.” Niall says it immediately, all in a rush, like he can’t keep it in. “She just left, so I called Haz. And you, I guess. Sorry it’s early, I’m just…”

“Laura Laura?” Louis’s eyebrows shoot up. He twists in his seat, hitting Harry in the arm. He hisses, “You could’ve just _said_ that.”

“I _tried_ ,” Harry whispers back.

“Jesus Christ,” Niall says. “Yes, Laura.”

“I still don’t see what the big deal is,” Harry says.

“She’s one of his best friends,” Louis says. Niall makes a noise like Louis is right, that is the problem.

“So? That’s not a bad thing.”

“It could be.”

“And it could not be. It could be good. Which I believe _you_ told me once, Niall. Right?” The face Harry makes at the phone is so fucking smug Louis wants to smack him. Or maybe kiss him. Both in equal measure. He can be such a prick when he wants.

“Harry,” Niall says flatly.

“Niall.” Harry matches his tone. “It works both ways, yeah?”

Louis leans closer, setting his palm on Harry’s knee, turning his head away so Harry can’t see the smile he’s fighting. He’s not stupid. He knows they’re talking about him, about him and Harry and the fraught stretch of time after they’d first hooked up, pissed off their faces and lonely in those first months of the hiatus, the both of them stuck in LA. They don’t talk about that now -- they never really talked about it then, either. But it all worked out. For the most part, at least, so.

“Yeah, Horan,” Louis says, his thumb drawing patterns on the knob of Harry’s knee, “it could all work out.”

“Fucking idiots, both of you,” Niall says. “Knew I should’ve called Payno. He’d support me in my misery.”

Harry chuckles. “Are you really miserable, Niall?”

“I think that’s the hangover, mate,” Louis says. “Not the situation.”

It’s quiet. Louis knows Niall’s probably chewing his thumb to bits and he gets it, honestly, but like. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels Harry press a kiss to his temple before picking up the phone and taking it off speaker.

"Listen," Harry says and heading out into the backyard, "yeah, no, it's just me. No, like, Niall, come on. Don't..."

Whatever he says after that is lost as he shuts the door. Louis watches him stand outside, stretching in the morning sun. He wonders what the fuck he could possibly be saying to Niall. Maybe he's just letting Niall freak out. He's good at that, listening. Lord knows Louis has used him as a sounding board this entire bloody summer. Before that, too. But this summer he's needed it the most.

It had been shit at first, getting used to his new LA life. Freddie was perfect from the start, it was just...when he didn't have Freddie, it was glaring just how alone he could be, odd after five years of being surrounded all the time. Oli'd fucked back to London and things with Danielle had fizzled out quick, sad as it was at the time. Everyone else he knew, James and Ben and the like, were busy working most days. So it'd been Harry, reaching out a month after Freddie. Harry, who'd been in the same aimless lull before he was starting up his own stuff. It was sick, actually, the two of them alone like they hadn't been since they'd lived together, all those years ago. Relearning each other’s ways. They'd never stopped being mates, but it felt different this time. 

Different even before they got pissed one night and Harry'd bit his lip too many times, Louis gone enough that he didn't give a fuck when he'd finally leaned in. Gave in. 

It's ages before Harry comes back in, smiling to himself. Louis slides a lukewarm mug of tea across the counter. His own is long gone.

"Is he gonna make it?"

Harry laughs. "I have no fucking clue. We just talked about the golf tournament he's playing in next week to scout some players until he said he had to go."

Louis bursts out laughing. "Well that's one way of dealing with things."

Harry shrugs. "We're all different."

Louis's jaw drops as he pretends to be surprised. "You don't say."

"Shut up." Harry swats at Louis's stomach. "You know what I meant."

Louis does, he supposes. But that doesn't mean he can't mock Harry for being a pretentious twat. "Ah, he'll be okay though. It's survivable."

Harry looks Louis over, biting at his lip. He sets his phone on the counter.

"Is it now?" He asks, coming around and sitting next to Louis, pressing his leg against Louis's. "Have we survived?"

"Was touch and go for a bit," Louis allows, wanting to keep things light. 

"It's true," Harry nods, turning his head and smiling at Louis. "You didn't talk to me for about a week."

"It was three fucking days, you dramatic twat." Louis shoves gently at Harry's shoulder when he laughs. "C'mon, like you weren't in your head about it as well."

Harry's quiet for a moment, fussing about with his hair and sneaking glances over at Louis while he thinks. Louis wonders if he's ruined the moment, more and more of that happening lately. 

"There's a reason Niall knew to call me first," Harry finally fucking opens his mouth, speaking quietly. "He was what, just a week back from his disappearing act then? At one point I tried to get him to fly here, knock down your door. He said that he couldn't because the jet lag would finally kill him."

"Payno did fly out," Louis says, laughing at the look on Harry's face, "no no, he was planned to, he had a recording session booked. It just worked out well for me. I pretended it was him being a noble mate."

"Didn't know he was here then," Harry reaches between them, his rings cold when he wraps his fingers around Louis's wrist. 

"I was selfish, kept him to myself." Louis laughs, twisting his hand around so he can slip it down and intertwine his fingers with Harry's, squeezing gently.

"You? Keeping things to yourself?" Harry laughs, and Louis ignores the tone of it. "Never."

"Hey," Louis looks down at their hands. "I decided to keep you to myself, didn't I?"

"Mmm," Harry hums, turning his head to meet him when Louis leans forward, kissing him. Louis runs his tongue along Harry's, shifting forward as best he can in Harry's hideously uncomfortable chairs.

Harry pulls back after a few minutes, pressing their foreheads together with his thumb stroking along Louis's cheekbone. Their breathing feels loud to Louis.

"Hey," Louis leans back to get a better look at Harry's face, reaching down to palm Harry's knee. “What do you have this morning, anything?”

“I’m going to the gym, I’ve got a class at ten.” Harry wrinkles his nose as he turns to check the clock. It’s almost time for him to leave. Niall’s call has really thrown off their whole morning. “You could come if you want.”

“I’d rather lie down in traffic,” Louis says automatically. Harry rolls his eyes. “You know why?”

“Lou.” Harry's got that warning tone in his voice, but it just makes Louis want to take the piss even more.

“Because we’re all different.”

Harry shakes his head. He isn’t laughing. He isn’t even smiling a tiny bit. Louis doesn’t know how it all went tits up so fast.

“I was just trying to be nice,” Harry says quietly. "I was just trying to spend time with you."

“And I was kidding, calm down.”

“I am calm.” Harry exhales loudly, standing up and walking around the counter to dump the rest of his tea down the drain. “I’ve got to shower. Let me know if you need me to pick anything up on my way home.”

“Sure.” Louis nods, shifting from one foot to the other as he watches Harry go. There’s an itch under his skin. Maybe he _should_ go to the gym, try to run the feeling away. Maybe Harry will be free after and they can pick up where they left off, just a minute ago.

He has the sinking feeling it wouldn’t work.

**

“Yeah, no, I agree.” Louis nods even though Liam can’t see him. 

Liam had clearly thought it would be a harder sell because he says, “But if we do this, then -- oh. Okay. When do you fly back?”

“Monday? I think?”

“Sunday,” Harry says from across the room.

“Sunday,” Louis says, shooting Harry a thumbs up in response. “I’ve got that thing for X Factor on Monday, so I get in then. And leave… I don’t know when. I get in like, Friday though.”

Harry nods, so Louis knows he’s right. He doesn’t know how Harry knows his schedule better than he does, but whatever. 

“So like, I’ll set it up for Wednesday? You could stay with me --”

“Hard pass, Payno. But yeah, set it up for Wednesday, maybe book time for Thursday in case it goes well. If it doesn’t, I’m sure we can fill it. It wouldn’t go to waste.”

He can hear Harry’s scoff from across the room. Louis laughs as he flips him off, the both of them grinning. 

“Sure,” Liam says, like he hadn’t already thought of it and emailed the studio that they’d need a few days. “Listen, I’ve got a thing in ten so like --”

“Yeah, go,” Louis says. “That car definitely won’t wait for you to finish business before it drives you to the club.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“See you in a few, Tommo,” Liam says, and then he’s gone. Louis flips his phone onto the sofa, falling face-forward into the cushions and groaning. 

“If you just stayed at his, he’d probably stop giving you such a hard time.”

“If I stayed at his it’d be a fucking shitshow and we both know it, so don’t start with me.”

There’s a long pause before Harry says, “Alright.” He says it slowly, too, so Louis knows he thinks he’s being a twat. Fantastic.

Louis groans again, gritting his teeth before sitting up. He’s not staying at Liam’s, but maybe they’ll like, go out a bunch. That seems like middle ground. He’s about to tell Harry of his new plan when he realizes Harry’s got shoes on, his shirt unbuttoned to his navel. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Harry says.

“No shit.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I meant, like…” He waves his hand instead of finishing his sentence.

“Some of us have other friends.”

Louis makes a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry’s quiet for a minute. 

“We all have other friends, Harold.” Louis’s just happen to live on another continent. It’s shit, frankly. Some days it’s all too apparent that Harry’s one of the few people he really knows over here. Not that it’s a bad thing -- him and Harry have been bloody fantastic, a fucking friendship renaissance. Or, a friendship renaissance with fucking, he supposes -- but… it’s just a fact. Most of Louis’s friends are still in London. Harry’s the one who knows loads of people in LA. The one with a whole life here, instead of just a kid and his mum. 

“I know,” Harry says quickly. “I just meant, like.... I’m going out tonight. I told you about it, remember?” 

Louis honestly doesn’t, but things have been hectic lately, what with trying to fit in Freddie visits before he has to fly home and trying to cram two weeks worth of work into a five day visit to London. And sometimes when Harry talks, Louis just zones right out. He’s done it for years; it’s a hard habit to break.

He shrugs. Harry’s face does something weird in that instant, going stony right before he schools it back to placid indifference. Fuck, Louis hates that look, hates when Harry pulls out his media training tricks in everyday life.

Harry knows he hates it, too. It never stops him from doing it.

“You can come if you want,” he says, knowing full well Louis’ll decline. “We’ll try not to talk about bukakke this time. I know how much you love his work.”

Louis laughs at the joke even though part of him is still annoyed. He can tell Harry’s biting on his cheek to keep from laughing. 

“Oh, well, if _that’s_ on the menu.”

Neither of them moves. It feels like they’re caught in a force field or something, both of them slightly on edge waiting to see which direction the mood is going to tip in. 

Harry cracks first, patting his back pocket to check for his phone before saying, “I’ll see you later?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Louis says, standing up so he can kiss Harry goodbye. “All my friends are in London.”

“Lou.” Harry leans back slightly, his fingers digging into Louis’s bicep. “Come on.”

“It was a joke, Haz.” Louis brushes his lips against the corner of Harry’s mouth. “Relax.”

Harry doesn’t look like he fully believes him, but his grip on Louis’s arm lightens. “You really could come with.”

“I know.” Louis smiles softly. “I really don’t want to, though.”

The blunt honesty of it makes Harry chuckle, just like it always has. He kisses Louis once more before he leaves. 

“If it’s vegan, I don’t want any leftovers,” Louis calls, feeling better when the last thing he hears before the door slams is Harry laughing.

**

When his plane finally lands in LA, part of him wants to kiss the ground. There’d been more delays than he remembers in the past five years -- so many that at one point he’d texted Liam from Heathrow, warning him that he might have a houseguest after all. At least Liam’s string of smiley faces followed by _I mean sorry that sux_ had made him laugh.

The last time he’d texted Harry was right as he was boarding, just a short _FUCKING FINALLY_ that had gone unanswered. The wifi on the plane had been shit -- just to add insult to injury -- so Louis is in customs when Harry’s text comes through. A whole bloody block of words. Jesus Christ.

_Glad to hear it .x_ he’d sent first, and then, later, probably while Louis was stuck circling the airport, _Hey sorry you’re stuck in hell but when you get home, go to the guest room please. I have to be up early and can’t afford to wake up when you get in. Please. Thanks. .x_

Louis stares at it until someone clears their throat and he realizes the queue’s moved. The guest room? For fuck’s sake. Sure, Harry complains that Louis is too loud when he gets ready for bed, but Harry’s been complaining about that since they first lived together a million years ago. It’s not -- the guest room? Just because Harry’s never developed the ability to sleep like the dead? Christ. The rest of them managed to.

He’s dead on his feet as it is. And if Harry’s going to be a twat about it, then what’s the point. Especially if he’s not going to be around in the morning. 

_Going straight to mine. Deffo won’t disturb you that way_

He feels a tiny bit bad the second he presses send. Not bad enough to apologize, but enough that he follows it up with, _See you tomorrow afternoon x_. 

Whatever. His bed is just as comfortable as the guest room at Harry’s. And right now, all he wants is to fucking sleep.

**

_Do you have ANY normal food in your fridge?_

It’s been ten minutes of rooting around looking for anything that he could turn into dinner for the two of them. So far it seems like all the food he has requires intense levels of cooking or belongs in a smoothie. He needs to start adding to Harry’s grocery list. Surely Whole Foods has overpriced sausage rolls. The kind you just pop in the oven. 

He’s halfway to googling “sausage rolls Whole Foods” when Harry calls.

“Are you alright?” Louis asks immediately, at the same time as Harry says, “All food is normal, Louis.”

Louis blinks, confused. “Did you honestly call me to tell me food is normal? You couldn’t text me that?”

“I’m in traffic,” Harry says. The defensive tone in his voice makes Louis roll his eyes. For fuck’s sake. His stomach had lurched for a second when his phone started ringing; Harry never calls him. He had assumed it was an emergency. God knows that’s the only reason he’d call Harry. “The groceries were just delivered today, there should be plenty.”

“I know they were delivered today, I put them away,” Louis says. Technically he’d supervised them being put away, but that’s basically the same thing. 

On the other end, Harry sighs really fucking loud. “There’s plenty of food there, Lou. I made sure to order extra since Liam’s going to be in town. There’s chicken and veg and --”

“And a bag of weird fucking orange grapes, yeah, I know, I’m looking at it all.” Fuck it, he’s going to In-N-Out. If Harry wants to make himself a smoothie when he gets home, that’s fine. 

“Kumquats.”

“What?” Louis doesn’t have Freddie until the weekend. If Harry bought another crazy outfit for him…

“The orange grapes,” Harry says slowly. He sounds distracted. Traffic really must be brutal. Especially if he was bored enough to call just so Louis could yell at him. “They’re kumquats.” 

Louis peers at the bag, glad Harry hadn’t FaceTimed him so he has no idea how horrified Louis looks.

“First of all, my son looks nothing like these deformed oranges. It’s an insulting nickname.” Harry snorts as Louis lets the fridge slam shut. “Second, I’m going out for a burger, so if you’d like one, speak now or forever eat your shit fruit.”

“Heyyyy. It’s not shit. It’s good for you --”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

“-- and you could do with a better diet. I’ve been telling you for years, all that grease and fat is going to catch up with you. Your arteries are probably halfway to solid as it is, and it’s not like --”

“Yeah, still don’t care,” Louis interrupts him. “Cheers though, Dr. Styles. Proud of you for finishing medical school when we’ve only just gone on hiatus.”

“You don’t need a medical degree to be a nutritionist,” Harry says, like that’s the point to argue. Louis grits his teeth. He can feel a headache coming on. Fuck, he needs to eat something. Something that’s _not_ part of a rabbit’s diet. It’s shit, he’s seen Harry eat plenty of rubbish food over the years. He’s not going to say that, though.

“So that’s a no on the burger then?” He hears the edge in his voice and does nothing to curb it. 

There’s a pause and he just knows Harry’s taking a measured breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth, like dealing with Louis is another one of his yoga exercises. 

“No, thank you,” Harry says calmly. “I’ll make something when I get home.”

“Fine. I’ll see you then.” He hangs up before Harry can get the last word. 

**

“We’re back,” Louis calls out, hanging his keys on the hook next to Harry’s.

“Hiiii,” Harry calls from somewhere deep inside the house. “I’ll be right there.”

Louis waves his hand out, trusting that Liam’ll understand he should make himself at home. It’s unnecessary, probably, seeing as how Liam’s been crashing here for a couple days already, but Louis is going through the motions. 

“Do you want anything?” he asks, yanking the fridge open. “Water, beer, I’m sure --”

“There’s coconut lemonade in the pitcher,” Harry says, coming into the room. “It’s good for hangovers.”

Louis makes a face. “It’s nearly five o’clock, we’re not _still_ hungover.”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugs. “I was just saying. You looked really rough when I left this morning.”

Louis thinks Haz was probably a bit annoyed with them last night. Which is probably fair, considering they’d called him to come let them in because Louis was too pissed to remember the combo on the keypad. It’d been late, the two of them waking him up, shouting over each other to tell him about the shitty bottle service at the club. Looking back on it, they probably made no sense at all. Harry’d just yawned through it all, nodding and fetching them water bottles before ushering them up to bed. 

He opens his mouth to say something but Liam’s quicker, holding his hand out for a glass and saying, “I’ll try it. I mean, I feel fine now but it’s not like it can hurt, right?”

Liam’s face as he tries it is priceless. Louis knows it’s good -- Harry makes it all the time, says it helps him detox even if he hasn’t been drinking -- but he’d rather laugh at Liam cautiously sniffing the glass then warn him it’ll be alright.

Harry’s watching Liam with the same barely-restrained glee. When he catches Louis’s eye, Louis has to look away so he won’t start laughing. 

“Oh,” Liam says, the furrow in his brow smoothing out after he finally tastes it. “That’s actually good.”

“Try not to sound so surprised,” Harry says dryly. 

“Well how was I supposed to know? You made Louis drink a raw egg last weekend!”

“I --” Harry’s hands float around for a second before he clenches them into fists, reining himself in. “I didn’t _make_ him! Did you tell him I made you drink it?”

“You did! You called me a baby!”

“But I didn’t --” Harry cuts himself off, rolling his eyes.. They both know the only reason he’s stopped arguing is because Louis is right. It’s not like Harry forced the drink down his throat or anything, but he still bullied him into drinking it. And it was revolting. “You felt better afterwards though, didn’t you?”

“I puked in the garden, actually.”

Harry stares at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. “You did not.”

“Well I felt like I was going to!”

“That’s when he called me, I think,” Liam says, getting up to pour himself another glass. “‘Payno, you don’t understand, it was _raw_.’”

“First of all, fuck you, I didn’t tell you about it until like, Tuesday,” Louis says. 

Liam shakes his head, mouthing “Sunday” at Harry.

“And secondly --”

“You felt better after?” Harry smirks.

“-- it was disgusting and I’m never trusting you again. You and that egg are the reason I have trust issues now.”

Harry blinks. “Because I told you straightaway there was egg in it? And then you drank it knowing that?”

There’s silence for a moment, like Harry’s letting everything sink in. 

Liam makes a face. “It’s a flimsy premise, Tommo.”

“I hate you both,” he says as they laugh.

“You should’ve come with us last night, Haz,” Liam says, leaning back in his seat. “It would’ve been fun. _More_ fun,” he adds when Louis makes an insulted sound.

“Yeah, I had a meeting today, though.”

“It was at eleven,” Louis says, because Harry’s making it sound like he had to be up at the arsecrack of dawn. He might not be the one with the baby, but Haz is sure the one who acts like an old man most of the time.

Harry looks over at him, his jaw clenched. “I wanted to work out beforehand.”

Louis shakes his head, trying to keep his cool. “You don’t have to lie to Liam, just say you don’t want to go clubbing. He understands.”

“I’m not _lying_ ,” Harry says like they don’t all know he’d rather chew his arm off than spend a night out in some VIP booth where the music’s too loud and the drinks are too watery and the tables are too sticky for his taste. He turns into a real fucking priss about those things, like he’s above getting pissed and dancing like he’s a piece of overcooked spaghetti. “What is your problem? Did you eat lunch?”

“Did I -- who are you, my mother?”

Harry ignores him, looking to Liam. “Uh, he had a sandwich?”

“And we’re ordering pizza for dinner, or is that not okay?” Louis asks. “Liam, did you know we have to ask permission to --”

“I never said…” Harry mutters to himself before sighing heavily. It’s a sound Louis is all too familiar with; he knows Harry’s got to be two minutes from stalking out of the room.

“Really?” Louis raises his eyebrows, feeling like he’s on a runaway train. It’s just that sometimes Harry says the exact right thing to get under Louis’s skin and then there’s no stopping him. “Because it sure sounded like you said something. Didn’t it, Liam?”

“Um.” Liam looks back and forth between Harry and Louis. Louis raises his eyebrows, waiting. Harry’s got one hand on his hip, looking equally expectant.

“For fuck’s sake,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. Harry checks the time on his phone.

“I’ve got to finish something up for Dan,” he says. “Let me know about dinner, I guess.” That part is directed at Liam, judging by how Harry looks directly at him and waits for Liam to nod before taking a step away from the island.

“Did you want something other than pizza?” Louis asks. “Because --”

“Pizza’s fine, Lou,” Harry says, his voice eerily calm. Louis hates that tone of his so fucking much. “Whatever you two want. Just let me know when it’s here.”

Louis waits until he’s gone to exhale. 

“What the hell, Tommo?” Liam shakes his head. “What was that?”

“I know, right? He’s such a prick sometimes.”

“No, I meant with you! Why would you drag me into it? I don’t want to get into the middle of your domestics.”

“They’re not --”

“Whatever you want to call them, I don’t care. Just don’t bring me into your fights, that’s not fair. You can’t make me choose sides, especially not over this shit.”

“No one wants you to choose sides,” Louis says, even though he knows it’s not exactly true. Liam knows, too, because he makes this face that has Louis’s stomach twisting up with guilt. It’s just that sometimes Harry makes him so bloody mental, how is he not supposed to want someone to back him up? “I swear, Payno.”

“I’m mates with both of you.” Liam crosses his arms, looking uncomfortable. “I know everyone fights sometimes but like, we were mates first, yeah? All of us. Hiatus or not, we’re still One Direction.”

“I know.” Louis swallows, planting his hands on the counter. He knows it isn’t fair to Liam that he gets an earful all the time. It isn’t fair to Niall either, since he’s probably getting Harry’s side of every story. But at least Niall hasn’t sat through it firsthand. “Sorry.”

Liam scratches his arm. “Get me more of this juice and I’ll forgive you.”

“It’s weirdly good, isn’t it?” Louis laughs even though he still feels unsettled. He pushes the feeling down. Liam’s not mad anymore, there’s no use in wallowing in his guilt. “I told Harry he should stop writing songs and start bottling this but he thinks I’m ridiculous.”

“He one hundred percent should do that. Remind me to tell him that later.”

“He’ll call you absurd.”

“He does that all the time anyway, so.”

This time, when Louis laughs, it feels a little less strained. That’s a plus, at least.

**

_Are u still home ?_ he texts Harry, sending up a silent prayer that he hasn’t left yet. 

_Leaving in 2_

“Oh thank god,” Louis says, bouncing Freddie on his hip. _Can u grab my blue duffel ? Its on the floor of the closet tyyy_

It’d been a kick in the tits this morning, barely beating Briana to his place only to find zero pairs of clean trousers in his closet. It’s his own damn fault for not moving more of his clothes over from London, but he keeps rationalizing it that he’ll be spending more time back there once the show starts up. And that’s sooner than later. 

It doesn’t help that what clothes he does have over here have ended up at Harry’s, brought over piecemeal and never returned to their rightful closet. He hadn’t realized just how much of his shit was at Harry’s until today. Now Freddie’s got more clothes here than Louis does, which is dangerous considering how often Freddie ends up ruining both their outfits. The kid’s not crawling yet, but he’s sure ace at projectile vomiting.

_Got it! Anything else before I leave?_

_No_

Louis means to send more, but Freddie starts crying and everything else falls by the wayside and the next thing he knows, Harry’s there, chucking his things onto the floor and holding out his arms for the baby, Freddie grinning widely when he sees him.

“Hey there, Kumquat.”

“I’ve only got him for the weekend,” Louis says, eyeing the garment bag Harry’s brought with him. “Don’t know how much you’re planning for.” 

“What?” Harry stops pulling silly faces and looks over his shoulder. “Oh, that’s my suit. For that benefit tonight, remember? With James.”

“Oh, right.” Louis had been invited too, had turned it down because he’s got Freddie. He’d forgotten entirely about it. He hadn’t even realized Harry’d RSVP’d yes. 

He must look strange because Harry says, “It’s not til later. And I figured I could come back here after.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Louis smooths down Freddie’s hair. He’s inherited his cowlick, the poor thing. “You don’t have to, though.” 

It’ll be late. And Freddie always wakes up early. It probably won’t be fun, not after Harry’s spent an evening at an open bar.

“I know,” Harry says. “I don’t mind.” 

It’s quiet for a moment. Louis fusses with Freddie’s hair just so he has something to do with his hands. 

“So,” Harry bounces Freddie in his arms, earning a laugh from him that makes Louis’s heart feel like it’s going to punch out of his chest. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it’s someone’s lunchtime, yes?” Over Freddie’s head he says, “Brought something for us, too. It’s in your bag.”

“Sick.” There’s a whole pile of rubbish Harry’d dropped near the door -- Louis’s bag and a mostly empty cup filled with green sludge. A second, still-full cup of the same shit. “Jesus,” Louis mutters, using his socked foot to wipe the condensation off his floor. In his bag, there’s a sack of McDonald’s and a tupperware of salad Harry must’ve packed for himself. For fuck’s sake. Now all his things are going to smell like fast food.

He closes his eyes, makes himself breathe deep and count to ten. It’s not even something he’d normally care about. There’s no need to have a strop over it. He slings his bag over his shoulder, collecting the food and rubbish in his arms. He’ll just… do his laundry this afternoon. It’s not that big a deal. He didn’t have actual plans, anyway.

**

Freddie’s in a horrible clingy phase, crying whenever Louis tries to put him down. He cries whenever _anyone_ puts him down and had spent the twenty minutes while Harry showered for the benefit inconsolable even though Louis had been holding him then.

It’s why Louis is exhausted by nine o’clock, zoned out in front of the telly while the Dodgers lose to the Pirates. He fucking hates baseball, but there’s nothing else on, and at least he can keep the volume low enough that it’s lulling both him and Freddie to sleep.

His phone buzzes and Louis holds his breath, hoping the vibrations won’t wake him up where he’s sacked out against his chest. 

It’s a picture, Harry and James and bloody David Beckham, Jesus fucking Christ. 

_Miss you!_ Harry’s sent. Louis knows he doesn’t mean it in a cruel way, but for fuck’s sake. 

He sends back the middle finger emoji and all he gets, twenty minutes later, is _Xx_.

**

It’s the middle of the night when Louis wakes up. There’s light seeping under his bedroom door so he knows Harry must be back.

“Soz, love,” he hears, but when he looks around, Harry’s nowhere in the room. It takes him a minute to realize he’s hearing Harry over the monitor. Him coming in must’ve woken Freddie up. 

It’s mental, lying there, listening to Harry sing to him. He doesn’t sing around the house that often, at least not when it’s just the two of them. It’s nice, hearing his voice again. Singing a song Louis only kind of recognizes, one he knows Harry’d gotten obsessed with a few years back, listening to it over and over until Niall’d threatened to break his phone. Louis doesn’t get it, because the song is nice. Maybe whoever normally sings it does a shit job, because Louis thinks he could listen to this for… for a long time, probably. 

Part of him wants to get up, sneak into the nursery just to see. Harry with his shirtsleeves rolled up, the top three buttons probably undone now that he’s left the venue. Freddie’s fist tangled in his hair like he always manages when it’s down. The two of them in the rocking chair Harry’d bought Louis when Freddie was born. It doesn’t match anything in the damn room, but Harry had a long-winded and heartfelt story about the antique shop he found it in, and it’s far more comfortable than any of the other chairs in his place. Louis loves it.

Freddie’s stopped fussing, but Harry finishes the song a second time, a gravel in his voice that makes Louis wish he had his phone so he could record it. 

Harry doesn’t leave him right away. It gives Louis enough time to sort his limbs out and pretend he’s asleep by the time Harry tiptoes into the room. He’s quiet, moving around the room in total darkness as he carefully folds his clothes and takes off his rings. Louis feels the bed dip when he climbs in. Even though he’s changed out of his suit, Haz still smells of cologne and wine. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says softly, like he’s known Louis had been faking this whole time. He probably did. Harry notices all sorts of things Louis never expects him to.

“You didn’t.” Louis rolls onto his side so he’s facing Harry. He’s all shadows in the moonlight; Louis can only make out the faint shape of him, the whites of his eyes and his teeth. “My super hearing --”

Harry laughs before Louis can finish blaming Freddie. It really is the little lad’s fault; when he’s around, Louis doesn’t sleep through the night. 

“That was a nice song,” he says. 

“Oh.” Harry sounds like it hadn’t occurred to him that Louis could hear him. “That --”

“I’m not being funny, Haz.” Louis finds his hand under the covers and squeezes it. He knows he’s a twat a lot of the time, but… “It sounded good. I really liked it. Should send me a link in the morning.”

“I --” Harry licks his lips. “Yeah, alright.”

Louis scoots closer until he’s able to kiss Harry. It’s late and he’s too tired to start anything, but if Harry has any complaints about the lack of intent he doesn’t voice them. He lets go of Louis’s hand to slide his hand over his hip, around to the small of his back.

“How was it?” Louis asks, close enough that he can make out Harry’s features now. “Fun night?”

“Yeah. It was nice. They raised loads of money, James was pleased.” Harry traces the bumps of Louis’s spine. “Missed you, though.”

“Missed you here,” he says. He really had. 

Harry smiles sleepily. Louis’s stomach swoops the same way it had when Harry’d started singing. He closes his eyes against it, falls asleep to the memory of Harry’s song and Harry tracing idle patterns against the small of his back.

**

“Come on, Tommo, it can’t have been _that_ bad.”

“I will send you a picture and then you’ll see.” Louis ashes his cigarette in one of the empty potted plants in Harry’s back garden. “He’s full steam ahead about it. Had movers over to clear the bloody room out and now there’s paint everywhere. Everywhere, Liam.”

Liam hums. 

“I mean, who just wakes up one day and decides they want a Jackson Pollack wall?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Liam says unhelpfully.

“It’s a fucking mess, is what.” Louis takes an angry drag. Harry’s off at fucking yoga or some shit, had left halfway through his morning painting session. Louis hadn’t told him there was a yellow streak in his hair. “Now Freddie can never come here.”

He makes an annoyed face at the way Liam snorts. “Was he ever going to?”

“Shut up.” Louis stubs his cig out. He wishes Harry didn’t care if he smoked inside. It’s hot as fuck out here. Though, on the upside, it doesn’t smell like fucking paint. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Sure,” Liam says. Louis wishes he were here so he could flip him off. Punch him in the shoulder. Something. “It’s just some paint, Lou.”

“It’s fucking _everywhere_ , Liam. Google Pollack and then you’ll see the shite I’m forced to deal with.”

“I thought it was going well. With you two, I mean.” 

“It’s…” Louis exhales heavily. It was just the other night he woke up to Harry singing to Freddie. He focuses on that. “It’s fine, yeah? I don’t know. It’s Haz, Liam. He’s a pain in the arse.” 

The memory of Harry’s voice disappears, replaced by a mental tally of all the obnoxious things Harry’s done of late. Louis twists his cigarette around, staring into the cherry. He can hear Harry’s complaints about how the smell sticks to his sheets, his furniture. 

“Well yeah,” Liam says, “he’s Harry.” 

That’s half the problem, Louis doesn’t say. That lately the things that make Harry Harry are what have been driving him up the wall. And not like they used to. Not where he can just roll his eyes and let it go. Like this fucking art project. Harry’s splatter-painting an entire wall and Louis wants to throttle him for it.

“Yeah,” he says instead, staring out over Harry’s swimming pool. “I’m being a twat, I know.”

“Well,” Liam laughs, “as long as you know. Oh, hey, I had an idea for that meeting -- you know, the one we set up for the next time you’re in town? With the new band you just signed?”

“Alright.” Louis settles in one of the loungers. There isn’t a cloud in the sky. It’s unsettling. “Let’s hear it.”

He reaches for another cig and lets Liam distract him with work talk.

**

“Didn’t expect to see you this early,” Harry says. He looks genuinely surprised to see Louis in the kitchen.

Louis points at the clock with his spoon. “It’s nearly eleven.”

Harry raises his eyebrows a little bit, looking like Louis has just made his point for him. Which, what the fuck ever, so Louis sleeps in more than Harry. The other half of the time he’s up with a baby or Liam or whoever’s called from London to talk business. He takes whatever sleep he can get these days. 

“Shut up,” he says, because there’s no use getting into it. They’ve always kept different hours, even when they lived together right after X Factor. “There’s eggs, if you want.”

“Oooh.” Harry pokes at the pan. “A proper fry-up, look at this. Someone’s been up for hours.” He laughs when Louis flips him off, a genuine, hearty sound that warms Louis from within. Maybe he should make an effort to get up with Harry more often; he likes their mornings like this. Likes all their mornings together, if he’s being honest. He should focus on the good parts probably, instead of all the things Harry does that drive him mental.

Like how Harry’s cherry-picked the foods he wants to put on his plate so it’s mostly tomatoes and a quarter of a sausage and one sad egg. 

“Cheers,” he says, sitting at the island, nudging his knee against Louis’s. “What’s on the agenda today? Late night call with Liam?”

“No.” Louis watches as Harry eats, tongue out like always. “Told him maybe I’d call late if I came up with anything good for the lads, but I don’t think I will.”

“Which lads?” Harry shifts in his seat until he can pull his phone out of his back pocket. “Yours or --”

Louis tries not to sound exasperated when he says, “5SOS. Remember how I said they asked if me and Liam would help with some of the tracks for their next album?”

Harry hums, scrolling through his phone with one hand, forking tomato into his mouth with the other. 

“It’s a bloody nightmare, though.” Louis shakes his head; they hate everything he and Liam have sent them so far, which… it’s fine, really, but he can’t get a handle on what it is they want.

“Yeah,” Harry says, distractedly. He’s typing something now, fork paused halfway to his mouth. Louis bites his lip. He always does this, starts a conversation and then pulls out his phone. It’d be fine if he weren’t such a shit multitasker. 

“Think we’ll send them Fireproof, though, see how that plays.”

“That’s good.”

Louis can see Harry’s phone from here. He’s on fucking Twitter, of all things. It’s not even an urgent email. He picks up his plate, making his way to the sink. “Maybe they’ll win a Grammy for it.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s still scrolling. “Sounds good.”

“Seriously?” Louis tries to keep his voice measured but he doesn’t do a very good job. “You’re not even listening right now.”

“I am.” He has the nerve to say it while liking a tweet. Louis can see the heart turn red because Harry’s not even trying to hide what he’s doing. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what? You’re the one who asked a question and then checked out of the conversation!”

“I didn’t check out.”

Louis crosses his arms over his chest. “So you think they’re really going to win an award?”

“Who?” Harry blinks and Louis feels like his head is going to explode before Harry breaks into a grin. “I’m kidding, Louis. I heard you say you’re working with 5SOS. I can do two things at once.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Louis mutters, flinching when Harry pinches his side. He wonders if Harry just doesn’t realize how out of it he seems when he’s on his phone. Or if he doesn’t care.

“Well, I can.” Harry’s still laughing at his joke as he goes back to his breakfast. And his phone. “Hey.”

He stops before finishing the rest of his sentence. Louis waits a full minute and then rolls his eyes. He washes his plate and puts the rest of the food in tupperware containers for tomorrow and only then does Harry realize he’d started talking. 

“I’ve got to swing by the grocery after my meeting, do you need anything?” he asks, picking up the conversation like he’d never let it die. “For your place? Or here, I guess. Either?”

Louis tries to think. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Well,” Harry sets his phone down, “text me if you think of anything, alright?”

“Sure.” Louis leans against the island, feeling the sharp edge of the counter dig into his hip. It grounds him, a little bit. 

When Harry smiles, it’s all bright eyes and dimples. His hair’s still a mess from his workout or wherever he’d been this morning. Louis can’t help but smile back.

**

“I was thinking --”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Louis says automatically. Harry frowns and Louis stretches out so he can prod Harry’s leg with his toes. He pulls a face until Harry laughs. 

"I was thinking," he starts again, while Louis keeps one eye on the football match he'd recorded. Watching it is his reward for actually sitting down and getting a fuckload of work done this afternoon. "There's this place downtown, Chrissy was telling me about it, it's got like, apparently the best steak she's ever had in her life? Life-changing, she called it. And she knows food, yeah?"

"Get in!" Louis yells. Harry makes an exasperated noise at the interruption. "Sorry Haz. Steaks, life-saving, go on."

"Do you want to go?"

"Um." Louis brushes some crumbs off his shirt while he tries to think. "I've got Freddie this weekend --"

"Tonight, Lou."

"What?" Louis barks out a laugh, looking from the telly to his joggers and then to Harry. "Tonight? Fuck no."

"Louis."

"Harold." 

Harry rolls his eyes. Louis rolls his right back. 

"What?" Harry asks flatly. "Why not? Why is it such a stupid idea?"

"I worked all day!"

"So did I!" 

"From _here_." Harry gestures towards his home office, the one that’s become basically Louis’s home base. 

Louis spreads his arms out because what the fuck does _where_ he worked from have to do with it.

Harry stares at him, his eyes narrow. “Are you serious right now?” When Louis nods he makes a frustrated sound. "It's not even -- god, Louis, it's not even anything big, it's just fucking dinner."

"You know what else is dinner? Seamless. And then we could eat it here and I wouldn't have to change my trousers." He doesn't know why Harry's being such a twat about this. All day Louis had been looking forward to this bloody sofa and a footie match and a pint or two. The last thing he wants is to have to get dressed up and eat the tiniest portion of grass-fed beef and farm-to-table asparagus twenty pounds can buy.

"That's all we ever do!" Harry yells. "I just want to go _out_ for once.”

“But --”

“It wouldn’t even be with my friends you hate! It would be just us, Louis. You still like _me_ , right?" He sounds so sarcastic a part of Louis thinks he should be proud.

"No, I hate you.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Of course I fucking like you, what the shit are you on about?" He can feel a headache coming on. He doesn’t have the energy for Harry’s drama; he’s already had people cry on two separate conference calls today.

Harry folds his hands together. The way he’s sitting on the edge of the sofa so rigidly makes him look like he’s fucking praying for strength.

“It’s not you, Harry,” he says. “I just don’t feel like going out tonight.”

“Alright,” Harry says, sounding like it’s anything but. Louis stretches his leg out to poke him again, but he’s shifted during their conversation and now Louis can’t reach.

“Haz, come on.”

“I said it’s alright, Lou. We can go some other time or whatever. When you’re up for putting on fucking jeans.”

“You know,” Louis doesn’t know if it’s the right time for a joke -- it’s probably not, but fuck it, “there was a time you were _glad_ I wasn’t up for putting on jeans.” 

Harry breathes in through his nose. 

“It was last week,” he stage whispers. Harry drops his head, his hair spilling around his face like a curtain. Louis can’t tell if he’s trying not to laugh or genuinely, totally annoyed. Both, maybe.

“ _Louis_.” Annoyed, then. Fantastic.

He braces himself for more -- more yelling, more trying to cajole him into going out, more anything -- but Harry just pulls out his phone and starts scrolling idly. 

Louis turns his attention back to the telly; he’s missed another goal. He reaches for the remote and ignores the small sound Harry makes when he starts to rewind the match. 

**

“Can you hurry up, please?” Louis has to raise his voice to be heard over the shower. He shoves his toothbrush back into his mouth, trying to mentally calculate the last possible minute he can leave the house and still not be late. “Isn’t there a bloody drought on or something?”

“I am hurrying,” Harry says. Louis can see him through the fogged glass. He doesn’t look like he’s hurrying.

“Haz, I have to be in the studio at ten.”

“And I have to be in Brentwood at 9:45.”

Louis spits. “So shower faster!”

“You know I have a routine. Just use a different shower.”

“All my shit is in here!” This is fucking ridiculous. “Do you even have shampoo in your guest loos? Honestly, Harry.” He probably does, but it’s probably some fruity smelling rubbish, the kind that makes Louis’s hair lie flat and weird. He’d rather go out unshowered.

“You know I do,” Harry says. He’s doing some sort of arm stretches. Louis knows he does this all the fucking time, but Jesus Christ. If he could shake a bloody leg it’d help. Sometimes he thinks Harry moves this slowly just to get a rise out of him.

Fuck it. He yanks open the door to the shower and steps in. Harry flinches at the rush of cold air.

“Hey, Lou, what --”

“Oh my god, I don’t care, this is economical not recreational.”

Harry grits his teeth. “I had two minutes left, you couldn’t wait?”

“For you to finish your jazzercise routine? No, I couldn’t.” Louis pushes at Harry’s side until he moves and Louis can step under the spray. 

“It’s not jazzercise. Why are you alw--”

Louis misses whatever he says, too busy shampooing. “What?” He looks over his shoulder, but Harry just shakes his head.

“Nothing.” He’s got his fingers twisted into a knot. After a minute he untangles them, throwing them down by his side forcefully. “Can I rinse my hair out, please?”

“Yeah, just,” Louis ducks his head under to rinse first. Sure, Harry’s got to be out the door sooner, but he’s slower. You snooze, you lose. Harry can get that tattooed on his other bicep.

“ _Louis_.” 

“What? I’m done, here.” He turns to the side. Harry slips a bit as he takes Louis’s place, and Louis automatically reaches out to steady him before reaching for the body wash, squeezing a bit into his palm. 

Harry finishes rinsing out his hair and gets out, the door thudding shut behind him. Louis can’t believe how bloody early it is. It’s too early in the day for either of them to be this angry. This should be easier, the two of them doing the day-to-day shit. Negotiating around each other. It was easier in the beginning. He doesn’t know why it feels so difficult all the time now. 

“Oh, come on, _Lou_. Really?”

“What?” He wipes a circle on the door, clearing the steam enough that he can see Harry gesturing to the toothpaste splattered on the mirror.

“Every time!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’ll clean it later.” 

“That’s not the point!” Harry says.

“If the mirror’s clean then who bloody cares?” It’s just some fucking toothpaste. 

Harry waves his hand through the air and doesn’t actually answer. He’s mostly dressed by the time Louis’s out of the shower, standing in the middle of his closet, trying to decide between two shirts. 

“The blue one,” Louis says, struggling into his jeans. For a moment he thinks Harry’ll pick the yellow one, just to be contrary, but he’s not Louis. He pulls the blue one on and mumbles a thanks. 

Louis leans up, brushing a kiss against the corner of Harry’s mouth before trying to find a shirt of his own. Once Harry’s gone, he stands there, a t-shirt balled in his fists, and tries to remember what it had been like before. It wasn’t like this. It was only a few months ago, but it wasn’t like this.

**

Technically it’s his own damn fault. He isn’t paying attention, too busy tapping out a message to Liam about the bit of a song he’d sent as a voice memo. It’s shit, sounds like Liam’s playing on one of those plastic pianos the twins got for Christmas last year. Louis’s shoulder grazes the wall and he winces when his t-shirt sticks to it for a moment.

“Jesus,” he says under his breath, glaring at the splotch of green paint on his arm.

“What now?” Harry asks. Louis hadn’t realized he was standing there. He sounds… off. Exhausted, sort of, even though Louis knows he slept. He went to bed hours before Louis had last night. 

Louis gestures to the wall. “Why is this wet?”

“I was painting this morning. Felt inspired.”

“You --” Louis stops himself before he says something he regrets. “Alright. So is it done, then?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.” The way he says it is weird. It’s like a challenge. Like he knows Louis is about to explode and Harry’s trying to push him over the edge. 

Louis doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, no matter how much he wants to start shouting.

“Whatever.” He hates the way his voice sounds. Hates that even the stupidest of things make all the muscles in his back tense up. “I’m going for a smoke. _Outside_ , I know,” he adds the second Harry opens his mouth. For fucks sake, he hasn’t smoked inside since the last time Harry lost his mind about it, and that was weeks ago. There’s no need for a reminder every bloody time.

He doesn’t expect Harry to follow him. He definitely doesn’t expect him to ask, “What the fuck, Lou?”

Louis ignores him. He just… if he gets five minutes, he can recenter himself. Five minutes and this ball of anger curling in his gut will go away. Probably. Fucking hopefully.

He lights his cig and closes his eyes. The sun is so warm. It’d been jarring the last time he’d gone home -- home home, to London. He hadn’t realized how used to LA weather he’d grown until he was back there and missing here. It’s mental. It’s been ages since he had time to really settle in anywhere, and even though he’s been doing a fair amount of back-and-forth, he’s spent more time in LA with Freddie than anywhere else. Has spent more time in LA with Harry than anyone else, and that’s… Louis shakes his head. His whole adult life so far has been a bloody roller coaster, but this stretch feels like something else entirely. 

“ _Louis_.” Harry’s voice is sharp, cutting through his thoughts like a knife.

“What, Harry?” He turns around, immediately wishing he hadn’t. Harry looks like utter shit, pinching the bridge of his nose, his hair going every which way. Louis looks at the ground, taking another drag before he feels calm enough to say, “Listen, I didn’t -- I was pissed about ruining my shirt, is all.”

That’s not it and the both know it, but he thinks maybe they can pretend. They’re good at powering through all sorts of shit. Always have been. They wouldn’t have lasted five minutes as friends if they hadn’t been able to ignore the annoying bits -- of each other and all the noise coming from outside, fans and fame and the daily grind of living on buses and in hotels for weeks at a time. But here they are, five years and change, still going strong. Or they were until recently. They’ve just got to find their way back to solid footing.

But Harry doesn’t play along. He scoffs and it’s such an ugly sound that Louis recoils a bit. He wishes it were three months ago and instead of standing out here fighting they were just shooting the shit, getting day drunk and laughing about how they finally had free time to do whatever the fuck they wanted. How sick the hiatus was going to be for all of them, even Liam and Niall. Things were so good back then. Louis wishes he could pinpoint the exact moment things went wrong. If it were one thing, it’d be fixable. Instead they’ve got this slow unraveling and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Doesn’t know how to keep it from getting worse. 

“What are we doing, Haz?” he asks. Harry seems to sag under the weight of the question. Louis grinds his cigarette out just so he has something to do with his hands. “Because it doesn’t -- we --”

“I know. I don’t…” Harry runs his hand through his hair. Everything he says is so fucking slow, Louis feels like he’s dying waiting for him to spit it out. “I don’t know. I thought we had something -- it was good for a bit there. Or it felt like the start of something, something that could’ve been really great, you know? But.”

He pauses, twisting one of his rings around his finger, staring at Louis in that unnerving way he has. Louis doesn’t know what the fuck to say so he just stares back. It doesn’t matter, because Harry asks, “What happened? And don’t say you walked into the paint because we both know that’s bullshit.”

When Louis laughs it sounds jagged, raw. “I don’t fucking _know_.” He lights another cigarette. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to say right now. He’s so angry all the time and he doesn’t know why. He knows Harry’s just as angry and it’s fucked up. They’ve been through all sorts of shit together, six fucking years of ups and downs, but even at their absolute worst it wasn’t like _this_. “Fuck. It’s supposed to be easy.”

“Is it?” Harry sounds like he’s been hollowed out. Louis hates that he’s to blame.

“I…” It isn’t, Louis knows it never is, but he wishes it were all the same. “I wanted this to be easy. Didn’t you?”

“Yeah, of course. But it’s not like that, Louis.”

“It shouldn’t be like _this_ , though. I shouldn’t want to throttle you for making shit jokes or painting your bloody hallway or taking twelve hours to tell one story.” It comes out before he can stop it and the worst part is how Harry doesn’t look surprised. He doesn’t react at all. “And it sucks, don’t you think? That we’re.... we had so much bloody time together, years, but we start this and it’s…”

He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. Harry’s just standing there, chewing a goddamn piece of gum and not saying a single thing. Louis wonders, briefly, if they can pretend he hasn’t said anything. If Harry’ll leave and they can both forget this and everything’ll be fine somehow. Magically.

“I think…” Harry stops as soon as he starts, taking a seat on the edge of one of his loungers, fingertips pressed to his forehead like he’s trying to focus his thoughts. “I think maybe we’re too different?” 

“No,” Louis says immediately. If he knows anything it’s that it’s not _that_ that’s the problem. They wouldn’t have made it this long as friends if it were just because they’re fucking different. “It’s not that. It’s the like, circumstances of it, I think. You know?”

“You mean the break?” Harry’s got that familiar wrinkle in his forehead.

“Not the break, but like -- fuck, Haz, we’re in such different places right now. You’re working on a solo album and I’ve got X Factor coming up and a new baby that I’m trying to deal with and it’s… it’s too much.”

That’s the real shit of it, Louis thinks. Because yeah, Harry’s the one stable thing that’s moved from his old life to this new, insanely overwhelming one, but that’s not enough of a foundation for a brand new relationship. It’s asking a lot of Harry, if he’s being honest.

“Oh come off it.” Harry rolls his eyes so dramatically Louis is almost impressed. “Yeah, we’re in different fucking places, but you never want to meet me halfway.”

“Where? I’m at your place all the fucking time, how is that not halfway? Is it because I don’t want to go out with your shitty boring friends?”

“No! I mean, yeah, that’s shit of you and I want you to get along with my mates, but I mean you basically live here, Louis, and when has Freddie ever been over? I don’t _care_ that you have a baby, I love him, but it’s fucking killing me, always trying to follow your set of unspoken rules.”

“You don’t _want_ a baby over here, Harry. You wouldn’t even change his diaper last week because you said it was too disgusting! What’re you going to do when he pukes on your white sofa?”

“I don’t know!” Harry says. “But it still sucks that you have all these mental lines you won’t let me cross. I’m at your place all the time when he’s there, but you won’t let me drop him off at his mum’s? You won’t bring him by when I’m recording? I can spend the night at yours but he can’t stay here? How do you think that makes me feel?”

Louis opens his mouth but Harry answers for him. “Like shit, Louis.” The way he says it isn’t angry, it’s resigned. Like he’s been sitting on it for so long he knows there’s no way to avoid it. 

Louis sighs, takes a minute to gather his thoughts.

“You have your own life. And it’s not that you don’t want a baby in it, Harry, it’s that you aren’t going to change for him _or_ for me. How many times have you gone to a party while I’ve stayed home? Or gotten in at half two because you were recording, or at dinner, or distracted writing or painting or whatever the fuck you’re into this week? I’m not saying you have to change your life -- that’s my whole fucking _point_. We have different lives now.”

It’s weird, realizing that. They’ve lived the same life for so long. Even in those middle years, when they’d grown apart, they were still in each other’s pockets. Still close enough constantly that they always had common ground.

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Fuck. I wish this were working, but it really isn’t, Lou.”

There it is. Louis feels it like a punch in his gut. There’s a ringing in his ears even though neither of them has been shouting. It’d be easier if they were, he thinks. It’d be easier if this were an angry thing, if one of them had cheated or fucked everything up somehow. If this were some huge, dramatic falling out instead of whatever this is. Weeks of anger piling up and then giving way to crushing sadness.

“I’m angry with you just as much as you are with me,” Harry says, the words sticking in his throat like it’s killing him to say any of this. “Obviously.”

All Louis can think of is worst case scenarios, versions of the future where he and Harry don’t speak to each other. Where they’re the reason One Direction’s hiatus never ends. They can’t fuck it up. Not after everything else they’ve been through. He doesn’t want to lose Harry _and_ the band in one fell swoop.

“The last thing I want is to hate you,” Louis says. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been about it until he said it. Every day it feels like he’s edging closer to the point of no return, and it’s honestly the absolute last thing he wants. Harry’s one of his best friends. They’ve known each other for so long, have been through so much together. To lose all that over _this_? The bright spots from this summer don’t hold a candle to everything else that came before it.

Harry stares at his feet, nodding. “I don’t want that, either. To hate you, I mean.” He laughs quietly, this short, sad sound. “Or for you to hate me.”

“Harry --”

“No, I know. It’s the same for me. We both know it. It’s been…” He shakes his head, staring just past Louis’s shoulder. “It was good, Lou, but…”

His pause stretches out between them. They both know the bad’s outweighing the good these days. Or, it’s close to outweighing it. If they stick it out any longer, all the shit they’re holding in is going to fester, turn things rotten faster than either of them can imagine.

“Fuck,” Harry says, looking up at the sky, blinking fast. Louis wants to reach out and touch him but he doesn’t know if he should. If he still can. Fuck, this is such a mess. “Is it weird that I can’t stop thinking about Niall and Liam? Like, if we try --”

“No, I know. We have the whole band to think about. I know you’ve got your stuff right now, but we all agreed on two years, and it’d be shitty of us to just take that away from them. From all of us, I mean.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s for the best.” Louis knows it’s the right thing. There isn’t any room for being selfish, not when they’ve got to think of the bigger picture. 

“I know.” Harry finally looks at him. His eyes look shiny but he isn’t crying. “I love you a lot, you know. You’re one of my best friends.”

“Yeah.” Louis digs his fingertips into his palm. If Harry’s not crying, he’s not going to start, either. “I love you too, obviously. But sometimes that’s not enough.”

“Yeah.” Harry flexes his feet, cracking his toes; even after everything, it’s a stupid fucking habit that sets Louis’s teeth on edge. “For what it’s worth, I’d rather have had an amazing summer with you and have that be it, instead of dragging it out into what we both know will happen, where we both end up hating each other in a few months or a year or however long it takes.” 

He stretches out until he can touch his toes to Louis’s. It’s such a small gesture turned large because of how Harry has to slide nearly all the way out of his seat, his giraffe legs bent awkwardly while he tries not to fall over. The whole thing makes Louis’s heart ache. He feels like he’s on an emotional seesaw, springing from one extreme to the other at a moment’s notice. These past weeks have all been like that. It’s probably why a part of him is relieved right now. He’s not _glad_ he’s just… Relieved.

“I should go,” he says after what feels like forever. They’re both just sat out here, the sun beating down on them while they wait, silently. For what, Louis has no fucking clue. He pushes away from the railing.

“You don’t have to,” Harry says, but they both know Louis does. He pauses next to the lounger, long enough to rest his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He feels like he should say something, but he hasn’t a fucking clue what.

Harry turns, pressing a kiss to Louis’s knuckles. “Do you need help?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Louis smiles sadly at him before squeezing his shoulder and heading inside. It’s jarring when the first thing he sees is the clock above the microwave. It’s not even noon. Louis feels like he’s lived a thousand lives already today.

**

Coming home to his own place every night only gets stranger the more Louis does it. Lately when he stays here it’s only because he’s got Freddie, and without him the place feels empty. He doesn’t think it’s that he misses Harry, specifically, but just like, having company. There’s no one to talk to here. It fucking sucks.

“That does suck but it’s like three in the morning here, Lou,” Liam says. He sounds so fucking patient it’s infuriating.

“Well then don’t answer your phone, Jesus Christ, Liam, it’s not that hard.”

He doesn’t need to see Liam to know he’s rolling his eyes. It’s comforting, in a weird way. “Next time I’ll let you leave a voicemail, then.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say so he focuses on stabbing holes in the plastic film of his shitty frozen lasagna. Normally he wouldn’t call Liam when he knows it’s the middle of the night, but normally he’d be complaining about whatever veg Harry’s been hell bent on serving the two of them for dinner. Grilled cucumbers or some other nightmare. That leafy green shite Louis had found in his crisper this morning -- or at least, something that had been leafy and green once upon a time. It’d been mush by the time Louis found it, and he’d cursed up a storm at Harry for yet again buying food and forgetting about it entirely. Harry’d always argued that it was better to have the intention of cooking it, instead of only buying crisps or frozen dinners. But at least those foods don’t fucking rot. 

In that moment, stood in his boxers with something rank dripping down his bare forearms, Louis had been glad about the break-up. He’d felt vindicated in his rage, had known that it was better to clean it up and move on instead of letting it fester until he saw Harry again. He’s not going to be seeing him for a bit now, and that’s… it’s for the best. He just has to keep reminding himself of that.

“When’re you coming home again?” Liam asks.

“Um.” Louis has to check his phone. He feels bad about it; usually Liam knows Louis’s schedule better than Louis knows it. He must’ve been dead asleep. “Two weeks?”

“You could stay with me, if you like.”

“Nice try.” It probably wouldn’t be that bad, except he knows Liam knows he’s struggling right now, and he doesn’t know if he could take the looks for the entire week he’s back. “You live too fucking far from the studio, Payno.”

“I’d send --” Liam cuts himself off with a giant yawn, so loud Louis finds himself yawning, too. “Fuck, sorry.”

“No.” Louis fishes in the sofa cushions for the remote. “It’s late, you go. My supper’s nearly ready, anyway.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re basically sleeptalking.” 

Liam is silent in response. Louis is pretty sure he’s yawning again. It just proves his point. And whatever, it’s fine. He has to get used to being alone here at some point. It might as well be now.

“Night, Payno,” he says, even though it’s entirely possible Liam’s fallen asleep without hanging up.

The room feels even bigger now that he’s not got Liam on speaker. He turns the telly on, turning the volume up loud as he drags a blanket off the back of the sofa and wraps it around his shoulders. It still smells like Harry. He’d always bundled himself in it, complaining that Louis kept the place too cold. It was ironic, considering how he was a furnace in bed. Louis tucks his nose under the edge of the blanket and lets himself miss Harry for a moment. 

He can’t help but wonder if Harry’s having the same problems, or if he’s been able to slip right back into his regular life. He’d lived in that giant house alone before, so maybe he’s used to it. The silence. The extra space. All the empty places where something used to slot in so easily, their shoes by the door, jumpers in the wardrobe. Harry’s shampoo in his shower. His shit green tea in the cupboard. Louis hasn’t been able to throw those things out yet. Tomorrow, maybe. Soon.

“Christ,” he says, shaking his head, willing himself to pull it together. He’s due back in London next week, and by the time he gets back to LA he’ll have Freddie for a stretch and that’s that. He just has to get through this bit and then everything’ll be fine. Eventually it’ll all be normal again. Whatever the fuck ‘normal’ is. 

Somehow, he’ll figure it out.


	2. even if it was a mistake I can’t forget your face

It’s a good thing that Louis already has his game paused when his phone goes off, because he’d forgotten it was in his pocket and on vibrate. With the way he’s sitting, it hits him right in the sensitive part in the crease of his thigh, enough to make his leg twitch weird. He curses, fishing it out and glaring down at the screen.

“For fuck’s sake,” he swears when he sees that Niall’s texted the whole group. They only do that for band business since he and Harry had ended shit, little holdover contractual things or, lately, more of Liam just sending _????_ followed by thumbs up emojis.

Louis knows that Liam’s getting restless, has said it more than once. He knows it’s been well over a year since the hiatus started and it’s getting to be time they talk about when things might start up again. Liam can barely look Louis straight in the face whenever he says it. Louis can guess Niall might be feeling the same way; there’s a weird ball of guilt that’s been growing in his gut since he and Harry have been over, knows that in the weird aftermath Liam and Niall have been stuck taking sides, a natural split. Deep down, Louis had felt it to be the fairest way to go, that he couldn’t be the only one with an outlet like Liam is for him. Especially since it was really only the two of them who knew what was really going on. Louis realizes it’s been a month since he even saw Niall last, and they’re based in the same fucking city. 

Louis hesitates before he opens to see what Niall’s sent. It’s not that he doesn’t want to get back to it; wasn’t that part of what he and Harry were trying to salvage? Eight months on and he still hasn’t seen Harry, still feels a weird sinking feeling whenever he’s getting off a plane at LAX to see Freddie. 

He knows from Niall that Harry’s doing alright, even more alright than what the press lets on. That he’s been writing like all of them have, even did a handful with Niall for a few people and for Harry’s solo project, another that they ended up giving to Ariana. He knows that Harry sent over a box of presents for Freddie’s first birthday a few months back, the card signed _Uncle Harry Xx_. Louis had felt like a twat for thinking of keeping the card for himself, shoving it in the drawer next to his bed under the condoms and lube that he didn’t need anymore. It’s been good anyway, focusing on Freddie. Focusing on the label and X Factor and writing with Liam. He’s been good. It’s fucked, how you can go from thinking shit will never be okay to going days without thinking about it. He wonders if it’s like his Mum says about childbirth, because he remembers it like that when things ended with Eleanor too - that blinding pain that ebbs slowly away until it’s gone, but could come back at any moment, this vague shit memory.

_GOOD NEWS I SCHEDULED OUR LADS HOLIDAY_ Niall’s sent, along with a photo of an invitation with small as shit handwriting. Louis’s already mentally composing his insult about Niall taking a photo of an invitation when he presses his finger over the thumbnail, bringing it up. What the shit. He’s dialing before he can think about it too much.

“What the shit?” Louis asks before Niall can say anything. “Is this….”

“Lovely to hear from you, Lou." Niall sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “I figured it’d be better to just send a pic since I never know where any of you lot are.”

“When the fuck did this happen?" Louis still feels dumbstruck. “And why the fuck am I saving a date for two fucking months from now?”

“It happened a few days ago,” Niall says easily, “and it’s so soon because Laura’s got a break then and who knows how much longer we’ll have before we’re back to it. I’d like to enjoy married life for at least a few months before I’m back to recording all day or living out of a suitcase. Also, there was a cancellation at the venue.”

“The castle,” Louis corrects, ignoring Niall bringing up the break and feeling his phone vibrate against his cheek, knows Liam and Harry are probably replying. “Tell me, how is your wedding at some castle a lads’ holiday?”

“We’ve got it for a full week, gonna be a whole do,” Niall laughs, “I convinced Laura to let me loose for a night or two, us four are gonna do it up right.”

“Well fuck me, Niall." Louis doesn’t know what else to say, bites down his urge to be an absolute shit since he knows that Niall doesn’t deserve it. “Congrats, yeah?”

“Cheers." Niall clears his throat. “Erm, I think it’s going to be good, to see everyone? Fun for everyone.”

“Don’t know if I’m ready to see Liam yet, to be honest." Louis forces out a laugh. “That twat tried to tell me I was wrong the other day, don’t want to see his face.”

“What a cunt." Niall sounds hesitant when he continues, “Louis, Harry’s going, obviously, and I think we have to like…..both of you have to just own up to it. This avoiding it shit isn’t helping anyone.”

Louis exhales, his face feeling hot. “Yeah,” he says. Part of him wants to get the fuck off the phone. The other part wants Niall to keep talking.

“It’ll be okay." Niall sounds so sure of it that Louis is able to swallow against the lump in his throat. 

“Nah, I’m gonna show up and ruin your wedding day. Sorry,” Louis clears his throat, “your wedding _week_.”

“Fuck off,” Niall’s laughing though, “listen, I have to go but I’ll call you later, yeah? Haven’t seen you in ages and I’m not waiting until fucking July, you piece of shit.”

“Yeah yeah, love you too." Louis rings off, staring down at his phone. He brings up the group chat.

_!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m best man_ is what Liam’s sent, followed closely by Harry’s _the other font was better, Niall._

Fuck.

**

_I just had food delivered_ Liam’s sent, followed by all the food emojis possible. Louis’s fingers twitch over the keyboard, just long enough for Liam to add _None of its even a little healthy_

_Cmon Tommo_

Louis hadn’t meant it entirely when he’d responded to Liam’s _U OK_ text after he got off the phone with Niall _No I’m hiding at yours for at least a week clear ur sched_

But Liam’s clearly not going to take no for an answer, just like he hadn’t when he showed up at Louis’s London place the second Louis landed last summer without Louis asking, staying long enough that Louis had to ask him to leave. It’s only another minute before a picture comes through, one of a pile of food on Liam’s counter, Watson looking up at it hopefully. Louis laughs, feeling ridiculous as he replies. He’ll just shove a bunch of shit in a bag and go, it’s a rare time when he’s got a few days without any hard plans anyway.

_Alright, just don’t let Watson eat my share_

_No promises!!!! He’s bigger than u. X_

_Fuck off_

**

“Ow, fuck.” Louis tries to shift slightly so his ribs aren’t digging into Liam’s floor, but Watson’s gone a dead weight on top of him. “I know I said I wanted him to lie on top of me but I didn’t really mean it.”

“Watson’s very literal,” Liam’s trying not to laugh, Louis can tell. What a twat. 

“Just like his owner." Louis manages to move enough that he can roll out from under Watson, propping himself up on his elbows when Watson gets up with a disgruntled sigh, settling so he’s on top of Liam on the sofa instead. 

“Fuck you, Watson is very good at helping people in emotional distress." Liam scratches at the dog’s head, grinning down at him, “aren’t you?”

“I’m not in emotional distress,” Louis sits up, flipping Liam off when he raises his eyebrow, “what? I’m not, fuck you very much.”

“If you were it’d be okay though." Liam shrugs, being far too reasonable for Louis’s liking. 

“Thank you for validating me, Payno." Louis can’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice, even though it makes the corners of Liam’s mouth turn down a little bit. 

“It was going to happen sooner rather than later,” Liam wraps his arms around Watson’s giant head like it’s a shield against Louis or something, “seeing him.”

“I know." Louis gives up trying to fight it or be a twat about it, sitting up and leaning his elbows on Liam’s giant coffee table. He takes a pull of the beer Liam had brought out while he was trapped under Watson. 

“Surprised it hasn’t yet.” Liam shakes his head. “You’re in LA a lot, Louis.”

“Well, my kid _lives_ in LA, so." Louis deliberately sets the beer down next to the coaster, eyeing Liam as he does. 

Liam sighs. “So does Hazza, most of the time,” he points out.

“No shit.”

“It’s getting close to that time,” Liam tilts his head away when Watson tries to lick at his neck, “getting the lads back together. Or at least talking about it.”

“Niall’s getting married, though.”

“Why do you think he’s doing it so soon?" Liam shrugs. “He and I talked about it, he did it because he wanted to but also to like, leave shit open.”

“Niall didn’t say anything to me about it.”

“Well, how much is he saying to you?" Liam raises his eyebrow. “I know how it’s been.”

“Harry needed someone to…” Louis trails off when Liam’s eyebrows nearly reach his hairline. “What?”

“Listen, I know that you’re like, _fine_ , but also I know how much it fucking sucked, yeah? And I just think…”

He trails off, although Louis knows what he’s about to say. Liam’s said it a lot, especially the last few months when Louis had, mostly, gotten to a point where he was good with things. But being good with things and seeing Harry are two very different concepts. 

“You think that I should talk to him." Louis finishes, Liam looking relieved when he nods. “You think that no matter what, we had five years before anything happened so it will be fine in the end.”

“Okay, I know I say it a lot, but I just want you two to be okay?" Liam frowns. “I swear, it’s not because I’m feeling proper ready to get back to it, I hope you don’t think I’m that big of a shit.”

“I know that, Liam." Louis knows when is not a good time to take the piss. “I do, I know it.”

“You said,” Liam sounds hesitant, “that you were trying to save it, you both were.”

“I fucking know what I said." Louis feels uncomfortable, like there’s an itch under his skin. This is the first time in a long fucking while that Liam’s pushed him on it, brought up all the misery Louis had run his mouth about all those months ago. 

“Soz, Louis." Liam says softly, his eyes big and sad like he’s some bloody cartoon character. “This is a bit of tough love from me to you, is all. I know it’s shit, but it’s in two months. If you talk to him before we all go, I just think….”

“I’ll do whatever I have to in my own time." Louis wants to end this conversation, even though the sickest part of him almost likes to talk about it, like the time he got his Freddie tattoo last summer and Harry’d pressed his finger to it too soon while he was fucking him. Pain can feel bloody good sometimes in the most fucked up way. 

“Okay." Liam holds up his hands like he’s surrendering. “I’ll shut up.”

“I…” Louis sighs, moving his beer back to the coaster. “I was going to rearrange some stuff for a good long visit with Freddie before the wedding, maybe then?”

“Sure,” Liam grins, even though from his eyes Louis knows he doesn’t quite believe him. Louis shrugs, because Liam knows him too fucking well. “That sounds like a good idea.”

**

“This is good, Lou,” Liam says quietly, scrolling through the file Louis sent him. “You have a tune?”

“Yeah, if you want, I can play it for you in a bit." Louis looks out over Liam’s garden, at Watson bounding around as he chases some squirrels. “Was fucking about on the piano the other night, think I finally figured it.”

It’s some lyrics he’d started that first night he was alone in his too quiet house in LA, had needed to funnel out the shit way he was feeling somehow. It didn’t get too far, something he’s added to here and there as he worked through stuff. He’d finally figured out the melody of it after Niall’d sent his text.

It wasn’t going to be a thing he shared with anyone, but after the past three days staying with Liam… He felt like he had to or he’d go mad. Wanted Liam’s opinion.

“I want to hear it.” Liam rubs his thumb over his phone, his mouth moving as he reads over it again. “Fuck, can I bum one of those?”

“One of these?" Louis holds out his pack, speaking around the cig he just stuck between his lips, “You’re the worst quitter of all time, Payno.”

“I’m mostly good about it,” Liam protests, making a face at Louis. Louis makes one back, finally tossing his pack over the small table between them. 

“Only because I’m a firm believer in being a bad influence." Louis lights up, tossing his lighter after. Liam catches it easily. He sets his phone on the table before he lights his own, talking around a cloud of smoke.

“That you are." Liam sighs, looking back at his phone. “This is, like...you should send that to him. Get a conversation going.”

“Fuck no." Louis feels like his neck goes entirely stiff at even the thought of it. “We’re never gonna use it, Payno. I just wanted to like...share it with someone.”

“Sure,” Liam says easily, his eyes following Watson, “I’m glad you think I’m a good person to share it with, Tommo. Just think that…”

“Don’t." Louis can hear how sharp his voice is when he speaks, sees how Liam freezes up. He’d rather stick his entire hand in Harry’s high tech smoothie blender before he’d show him the song. It’s too...Harry knows how he feels, anyway. Felt. 

“The part about timing…” Liam glances over, looking nervous for just long enough that Louis feels like shit. “Anyway. Um, play it for me later?”

“Yeah." Louis relaxes. “Hey, think I’ll stay until our meeting on Thursday, cool?”

“Of course." Liam takes a deep drag on his cig, his eyes crinkling up. “Can stay however long, Tommo, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do." Louis closes his eyes. He has a headache. 

**

“He’s talking way more than when you FaceTimed me a couple weeks ago,” Liam says, a grin on his face when Louis locks his phone and tosses it on the sofa between them.

“Yeah, it’s like he’s a different person every day,” Louis still gets this weird thrill whenever Freddie calls him Daddy, wonders if he’ll ever get sick of it. 

“Think he has a bit of an accent,” Liam looks thoughtful, “you know? It’s good you got the nanny from here, yeah?”

“It’s too early to tell, but yeah, that was kind of the point.” Louis doesn’t mind that they’re raising him in LA, but he wasn’t going to give up everything. Freddie’s still a part of him, at the end of the day. 

“Think I’ll see if I can swing it, fly out with you next time." Liam stretches out, dropping his feet on the coffee table. “He needs some Uncle Time.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, after a beat. If Payno had just said Uncle Liam like a normal fucking person it wouldn’t have set Louis off, made that worry push to the surface again. Freddie was so young, it’s not like he’s going to remember that he had this person in his life who disappeared one day. 

“You know,” Liam says in that voice that Louis hates, the one where Liam can pick up exactly where Louis’s mood is heading, “once we’re back to it, Freddie’s gonna see all his uncles again regularly.”

“He’s not coming on tour with us." Louis says automatically. He would never. Maybe for a visit here and there, a few stops, but that’s it. It’s just not how he wants to do things.

“I know _that_ ,” Liam sounds offended. “But I’m sure we’ll end up in LA for stuff more often than not, you know?”

“Right." Louis snorts. “I know Harry will see him again, Liam. I’ve not lost it entirely.”

“Do you wonder if he’ll remember him?" Liam’s just asking because he wants to know, Louis is aware. But a part of him still wants to punch him right in the dick, hard. 

“You know I do,” Louis mutters, not meeting Liam’s eyes. “It’s been a long time, Payno. Doubt he will.”

“But you don’t know." Liam’s smiling when Louis looks up finally, “all this, Louis, this past few months, it’s just a thing, you know? I think seeing him, and talking to him first, that’ll make you see.”

“Christ,” Louis reaches over and twists Liam’s nipple as hard as he can, Liam yelping loudly. “I’m not staying with you for a fucking therapy session, you twat. I just needed a break.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Liam stands up, his hand cupped over his pec as he backs out of the room, “and I’ll keep therapizing you.”

“That’s not even a word!” Louis yells, hearing Liam laugh from the kitchen. Staying with Liam for so long without any contact with the outside world except for with a one year old was a massive mistake. 

**

“We’re going out." Liam’s standing over Louis in the guest room that’s basically Louis’s room, haloed by the light from the hallway behind him. Especially since Liam calls it that and gave Louis full control over decor when he’d done a remodel once they were first on break and he realized that the whole place was too Sophia for him to handle. 

“What?" Louis had gone for a quick kip after they had done some work, gone over some stuff for the label together and fucked about over a song. It seems far too dark for this time of year for it to be early yet. Fuck. “Where?”

“Pub in town." Liam laughs, spinning before the room is flooded in light, Louis blinking against it. He tosses his pillow in Liam’s direction and Liam catches it easily, his eyes all crinkled up like a twat. “I found it a couple months back, meant to tell you. It’s real mellow, you’ll like it.”

“Are you calling me _mellow_?" Louis flips Liam off, Liam bouncing on the edge of the bed when he sits so he’s facing Louis. “Fuck you, I might be an old dad now but I can still party.”

“Sure." Liam’s mouth is moving like he’s trying not to laugh. What a little shit. “That’s why you kipped for three hours after you already had a lie in earlier, and why this morning you made me order in breakfast because you didn’t want to put on real trousers and go out.”

“I…” Something twists up in Louis’s gut, makes him feel like his face has gone all hot. “You know what, Payno, let’s do it. Let’s go to your shit pub.”

“You’re a shit pub." Liam shoves at Louis’s shoulder until Louis can feel himself give in, start to laugh. “C’mon, get dressed and we’ll go, I’ll even pick up the tab.”

“Well thank God for that." Louis sits up, rubbing his hands over his face. Shit, he needs a shave. Or to decide not to, go for a proper beard. Make a decision either way. His hair’s shit too, his fringe falling into one eye. “I’m a fucking mess, Payno. Falling apart.”

“Nah, you’ll be alright in the end." Liam’s squinting his eyes at him like he’s analyzing him or some shit, and Louis starts laughing, Liam’s face falling a bit.

“I was talking about my appearance, you fuck." Louis points at his own face, “not my emotional well being.”

“Well…..” Liam shrugs, snorting a little, “maybe it’s a little bit of both.”

“You fucker!" Louis reaches for Liam’s nipple, twisting it hard when he doesn’t move away quickly enough. “Normally I’m up for you holding your own, but not at my expense.”

“Never at your expense, Tommo.” Liam looks annoyingly bloody calm as he squeezes at Louis’s leg through the duvet. “C’mon then, get ready and then we’ll be off, the food is proper great so we can eat there as well.”

“Alright alright." Louis waves his hand at Liam, kicking his hip until he gets up and out of the room, laughing the entire time. 

Once Liam’s gone, Louis gets up and shuts the door, glancing at the mirror on the wall to try and assess how he’s doing. Not great. Not totally shit, but not great. He can get away with skipping a shave, looking at his reflection. His hair is salvageable, his fringe the only part that probably needs a trim. That was the weirdest, they’d all agreed after the first few weeks of the break, having to actually worry about shit like getting a haircut without Lou there to handle it day in and day out. 

Louis usually bothers Lottie until she’ll pop over and take care of it when he’s not actively on television, but it’s been a few weeks. He makes a mental note to make her put it on her calendar to shape him up before Niall’s wedding, too. 

It’s not that he wants to look a certain way, but he’s not going to show up looking like shit, either. Not just for Harry, but for himself, too. Because he sure as shit isn’t going to let this little set back fuck over all the headway he’s made over the past few months. 

If he can call it a setback...it’s just fucking natural that he’s got a bit of the spins knowing that he’s going to see Harry again, for real. Face to face. Louis isn’t stupid, he knows that this was going to come since they’re mostly still in a band together and were going to pick it up again sooner rather than later. 

It’s just….it’s so fucked. Louis shakes his head at himself in the mirror, watches his mouth turn down, clocks how there’s still a pillow crease along his cheek. He knows that he didn’t pack anything other than shit clothes when he came, but he’s pretty sure that he left some things in the closet a few months ago.

He makes a face, sniffing under his arm. Maybe a shower first. Liam can be patient. 

“Did you not hear me knocking non stop?" Liam grumbles when Louis finally makes his way downstairs, Liam sprawled out on the sofa and watching something Louis can’t identify on the telly. “It’s been over an hour since I said we had to go.”

“Oh I’m sorry, do we have an important reservation at the pub in town?" Louis drops down next to Liam, curling his arm around Liam’s shoulders. “Think they’ll let us in? Can you get us on the list? VIP?”

“Fuck off,” Liam butts his head against Louis’s shoulder, tilting his chin up and meeting his eyes. “You’re still gonna go, right?”

“Am I that boring, Liam?" Louis shifts so he’s perched on the edge of the sofa. “I mean, really.”

“Tommo,” Liam starts laughing, “we just went out, what, a couple weeks back? The after after party? I just mean that we haven’t been out this whole week, is all. Think you need to see more than just me and Watson for a night.”

“Oh." Louis remembers it well; remembers the girl he’d nearly gone home with and the three day long hangover even better. “Fuck, you could have said.”

“Soz I wasn’t clear enough when I asked you to go out to a pub for a late dinner and drinks, Lou." Liam grins. “And not if you were up for a drive into London for a club night.”

“Oh, shove off." Louis laughs though as he gets up, nodding down at Liam. “C’mon, let’s get to it.” 

**

Liam was right, it’s actually a great pub, has got a chill low key vibe that Louis likes for a change. No one even blinks an eye when they walk in, and Louis hopes that it will last for the whole night. Just so he can still feel like he’s tucked up in Liam’s for a night while he wallows a bit even though they’re technically out. He must be standing there by the bar with an odd look on his face because Liam’s looking at him with concern when Louis glances up, his eyebrows all knitted up together.

“Tommo?” Liam asks, reaching out to squeeze at Louis’s shoulder. “Alright then?”

“I’ll be more alright with a drink in my hand,” Louis raises his eyebrow and looks at the bar expectantly. It must work, because Liam’s laughing then, raising his hand to get the bartender’s attention.

“This is gonna be good,” Liam says after he opens a tab, grinning at Louis while they wait to collect their drinks. He still has his hand on Louis’s shoulder, and Louis leans into it instead of trying to shake it off. It’s a nice weight, makes him really bloody grateful that Liam’s been there for him through the absolute shit storm of the past couple of years, for both the good and the bad. 

Louis manages to keep that to himself for a long time, for long enough that he and Liam get in a few rounds of darts with some older blokes who appear to be regulars, manages through more than a few rounds. Liam was right, it was good to go out. Even if it’s to drink themselves into comas with some olds on an early enough weekday evening. 

“Payno,” Louis focuses on Liam’s face when he comes round with some more drinks. “You’ve been a real highlight for me.”

It could have come out better, but fuck it.

“Okay,” Liam starts laughing, the kind where he holds his face like it’s about the fly off, “you’re a bit over-served.”

“Fuck off, I was trying to say thank you." Louis takes a long drink, watching Liam lose it across from him. “I know I’ve been a real bunch of shit the last couple of years. And then all the years before that, too.”

“Does this mean that you’re not going to take the piss on all the shit I’ve done?" Liam widens his eyes. “You’ve finally realized you’re far worse?”

“Please,” Louis scoffs, nearly snorting beer out of his nose. “Don’t even get me _started_ on you, Payno.”

“There we go." Liam shakes his head. “I knew it.”

“Don’t even think that I don’t know the second we’re back to it you’re going to give me more headaches than ever." Louis spreads his arms wide. “This many, Liam. This many.”

“It’s good to hear you talking about it, y’know?" Liam shrugs, looking down like Louis’s yelling at him already. “Getting back to it.”

“Liam." Louis didn’t realize he’d even said anything at all; it had just slipped out. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, or that he hasn’t thought about it. It’s something that’s always been on the horizon, this rapidly approaching thing. He and Harry had even talked about it, back when things were new and good between them. About what they missed, what would change when they got back in the swing of things. 

“The last time I talked about it for real was with Hazza,” Louis mumbles, pausing to take another long drink. “Back at the beginning.”

“Oh, Tommo." Liam kicks at his foot under the table. “And you both wanted it, right?”

“Yeah, we did." Louis snorts, shaking his head. “When we were talking about how it’d be in the band with us together and shit.”

“Yeah, but you can still be together as like, mates." Liam shakes his head when Louis opens his mouth to tell him he’s being a twat, “no, don’t start with me, it’s true!”

“You don’t know,” Louis glances around, but there’s legitimately no one near them, stuffed in a crumbling booth in the corner. “You don’t know how it all really went down, Liam.”

“But,” Liam starts, looking confused.

“You know enough, but,” Louis hesitates. He feels a bit like a shit for admitting it, especially when Liam used to lay out his problems and rows with Sophia nearly word for word near the end of it. 

“But what?" Liam looks unsteady. Louis wonders if it’s because Liam’s drunk, or if he is.

“You don’t know everything, you know?" Louis tries to keep his voice neutral enough that it won’t sound like he’s being a twat. “You weren’t there, I know you know it ended but the lead up to it was so fucking brutal.”

“I’m not saying I do, but I just think that if you call him maybe it would fix everything!" Liam opens and closes his mouth a few times like he can’t believe he said it out loud. Louis sure fucking can’t. 

“Fucking hell, Payno." Louis plants his hands flat on the table like it’ll keep him upright.

“I don’t mean fix everything like you and Harry would, you know, get back to it? I mean like it’d fix everything for you two as mates, for the band." Liam runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck. I know it’s not that you’d be...I don’t know....what I’m saying is…”

Louis sits there, trying to gather his thoughts together. And also to let Liam talk himself into a right state. Just to fuck with him a little and keep things as normal as possible.

“Payno,” he finally says, to put Liam out of his misery. “It’s fine, I get it. I don’t think you’ve got a lot of secret plans to get Hazza and I back together. I guess I’m just saying that one conversation _won’t_ fix everything. It’s why I’m just...it’s good to get it over with at this fucking castle so we can all move forward, but I’m really fucking dreading it, if I’m being entirely honest.”

“I never would have known. Ow, what the fuck?” Liam winces when Louis kicks at his shin under the table. “So sensitive, Tommo.”

“One talk isn’t going to cover it,” Louis meets Liam’s eyes. “That’s all.”

“I know. But you’ve gotta start somewhere." Liam nods at Louis’s half empty glass. “C’mon, I’ll get us another.”

“Cheers, Payno." Louis downs the rest of it, resting his cheek on his hand as he watches Liam make his way over to the bar. He always could, he knows. Always could see Harry when he’s in LA. Almost did quite a few times back when it was terrible and new. But then he’d remember, and hold off. Best not to make it worse. 

He wonders if it’d be fine now if he had, if he and Harry would be back to a not so rubbish state. If they could be around each other at all. But maybe waiting until his hand is forced at Niall’s wedding would be best. They’re used to that sort of trial by fire, figure it out as you go along bullshit. If it worked so well once, why can’t it again? They can be friends. They can be bandmates again. 

Or he could call Harry right now, just do it and see what happens. He’s got his phone out and is opening his contacts when Liam’s suddenly there again. It’s probably saving him from himself.

“Feel up to another round of darts?” Liam asks, setting down Louis’s glass. Louis slips his phone back in his pocket.

“Alright,” he agrees, standing up and leveling Liam with a look. “But if you injure me, it’s your head.”

“Well now I’m tempted,” Liam laughs, dodging Louis easily as they make their way across the pub. 

**

“What’s your calendar looking like in a couple weeks?” Liam’s staring at his phone when Louis walks into the kitchen, dropping his bag on the floor. He’d told Liam the night before he was shooting to leave by noon and it’s only half three, so he feels like he’s pretty on track for how things normally go. 

“No fucking clue." Louis pulls out his own phone, checking it quick. “I’m pretty flexible, think I’m gonna switch some shit around to spend more time with Freddie before the wedding but I don’t know what will work.”

“Sick,” Liam types something out, leaning back against his counter. “Jade texted that they’ve finally got some time for another session, maybe we can get a couple days in? I might be able to swing three.”

“Could do.” Louis scans his calendar, pulling up a meeting he’d been wanting to cancel anyway and sending off the decline notification quickly. “Deffo the Wednesday and Thursday, maybe Friday depending how it goes.”

Liam nods, looking up and grinning. “I’ll let her know, they’re in there the whole week. It’s gonna be tough for them to pick at the end, think they’ve got enough for their next lifetime.”

“They’re pickier than us, it’s impressive." Louis hadn’t thought that writing with the girls would pan out, but Jade had reached out to Liam when they were first getting started on the new album and it’s been more fun than Louis would have thought, all of them blending together well with Liam and Louis’s loose writing style. 

Little Mix have been doing more in America, too, have new representation in LA which has been nice to expand Louis’s LA social circle when they’re around -- he’d even met up for dinner with Pez and Jade last time he was out there and they were in town, although that had expanded into a disastrous brunch at his place the next morning since they’d been put out he wouldn’t bring Freddie along to the restaurant. He knew he should have just ordered food in. 

“You know,” Liam tosses his phone on the counter, “you could stay here until then. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Liam, stop." Louis groans. “You and I both know I need to actually live in my house sometimes.”

“Yeah yeah yeah." Liam grins. “I just wanna help out, you know, with your _healing_." 

“Fuck you,” Louis says, after a moment. It’s good that Liam’s lost that puppy dog look entirely after the past week they’ve spent together. Louis chalks it up to the fact that he does mostly feel better about things, now that it’s all out there. Plus he never did get around to playing Liam the full song. 

“Nah babe, maybe later." Liam looks down at his phone when it vibrates on the counter. “Jade says she’ll see us soon and to tell you not to burn the eggs." He meets Louis’s eyes, a confused look crossing his face. “Am I missing something?”

“Always,” Louis says easily, continuing because he can tell Liam is about to dive headfirst into being hurt or annoyed. “I told you Jade and Pez came for brunch a few weeks back, she’s just being a shit about my cooking skills.”

“Ah,” Liam’s face evens out, smiling again, “that’s right, Jade had just told me you ended up having cereal when I saw her a couple weeks ago, but we didn’t go into details.”

Louis shrugs. “I burned the eggs. Freddie had stepped into Pez’s shoes and it was fucking cute, I was filming it on my phone and forgot I was cooking something.”

“I didn’t get _that_ video.” Liam actually looks hurt again, the piece of shit.

“Oh my fuck,” Louis rolls his eyes but unlocks his phone anyway, texting Liam the video quick. “I’m off for real now.”

“You okay?" Liam does one of his side hugs that fully envelops Louis. Liam palms the back of his head, and Louis finds himself blinking odd. Christ, sometimes when Liam gives one of these Louis can get emotional about shit that happened back in nursery school, like it’s meant to dredge everything up and make it better.

“I said I was okay,” Louis can feel how hot his breath is what with his mouth smushed up against Liam’s shoulder, “so yeah, I’m okay mate.”

“Just think,” Liam finally releases him, “it’ll all be over in a month and a half, and then we can all start new.”

“You gonna have a countdown?” Louis hoists his bag up over his shoulder as he opens the door. “Make us all hold hands at the reception?”

“I just might!” is what Liam’s yelling behind him when Louis makes his way to his car. Louis snorts. Payno will never change, at least. 

**

Louis hates when he gets a new haircut after a long time, always feels weird getting used to it. He sits there at Niall’s table and listens to him and Laura bicker over what time she’s coming home while he tries his hardest not to arch his eyebrow to feel how the end of his fringe brushes against it.

“All I said was if it’s too late I’ll just go back to mine while I still can and come back in the morning.” Laura’s knelt down in what looks like a precarious position in her heels so she can rub at Mick’s belly where he’s laid out on the floor. “Don’t wanna wake you up.”

“You only just got back from Australia.” Niall’s leaning back in his chair as he takes a long sip of his beer. “Don’t really care what time it is, pet.”

“I’ll remember that when it’s half two and you’re losing it,” Laura stands up, striding over to Niall and dropping a kiss on his upturned mouth. “Now stop being rude to Louis, I’ll see you later.”

“Here later!" Niall calls out when her heels click down the hallway, the scramble of Mick behind her, “Not tomorrow later!" 

Louis smiles to himself when he can hear her laugh before Mick reappears, looking like he’s affronted that she dare leave him.

“Oi, c’mere Mick." Niall reaches down and scoops up the little dog, holding him in his lap so he can lick at his plate. “Don’t tell your mum I’m doing this.”

“That not allowed?” Louis asks, nudging his plate across the table for Mick to take care of next.

“Not so much, no." Niall shrugs. “But I learned early, it’s the way to Mick’s heart if you’re suddenly around him all the time and taking up his fave sleeping position next to Laura.”

“I see.” Louis clears his throat, feeling slightly awkward that he hadn’t realized until he’d arrived earlier that Laura had basically moved in, already had her place up for sale. He can’t remember the last time he’d even been at Niall’s, is pretty sure that at the time he’d been with Harry. “Big adjustment?”

“Just was fucking weird the first time he’d jumped on my back while we were fucking." Niall grins when Louis chokes on his beer. “Other than that, we’re all good.”

“That sounds like a nightmare,” Louis can still remember how shitty and startling it was the first time Freddie had started crying when Harry was fucking him, but at least he was in a different room entirely. 

“Ah, I soldiered on eventually, just had to adopt a closed door policy." Niall sits back once Mick’s done, scratching him under his chin and settling him against his chest. “You wanna get us another round from the fridge?”

“Am I your guest, or…” Louis trails off when Niall lifts his hand from Mick to lazily flip him off. 

Louis gets up though, aware of the fact that he feels like he’s making up for something. It just took a while to work out a time where he could come see Niall, is all. He had a Freddie long weekend that always fucks up his internal clock, and writing with the girls took more than a few days after all, Louis pushing everything forward until he’d thought he’d go mad with it, keeping himself busier than he’s been in ages. 

“Talked to Payno earlier, by the way,” Niall says when Louis sets another beer in front of him. “He was telling me about the Little Mix sessions, sounds cool.”

“We got some good stuff in,” Louis shrugs. “Don’t know what they’ll use. I think he was meeting with them again later this week, I’ve got shit I couldn’t get out of.”

“Said he was having dinner with Jade tonight." Niall raises his eyebrows. “The way he talked about it, didn’t seem like the first time?”

“He’s been doing more than me,” Louis starts, Niall already laughing.

“Sounds like it." Niall shakes his head. “C’mon, don’t be a shit.”

“I don’t know, honestly." Louis doesn’t, he realizes. Liam has been mentioning Jade more in conversation lately, and the two of them have been getting on really well during their writing sessions, now that he thinks about it. 

“That’s not like Payno, unless it’s not really on yet." Niall says, and Louis nods.

“I’d say that I’d give him shit for it, but…” Louis trails off. Liam’s been a bit of a mess since Sophia, if Louis’s being entirely honest. 

“We should enjoy it, before it’s all he talks about." Niall laughs, but it’s soft. 

“Guess I’ve been too wrapped up in my own problems,” Louis hears himself admitting before really thinking about it too hard, “to really clock Liam much. I feel like a twat.”

“You are a twat,” Niall agrees, grinning wide, “but not because of that. You know Liam fucking loves being your minder. It’s probably been good for him.”

“That’s fucked up,” Louis laughs though, when Niall shrugs, toying with one of Mick’s ears. “But I guess it’s good then." 

Niall’s quiet, and they lapse into silence. Louis thinks about things, about how he’s seen Niall only a handful of times since the break started. He takes him in now, his hair everywhere, smiling with his fiancee’s dog in his lap. Louis’s missed him. 

“I get it, like,” Niall says, breaking through Louis’s thoughts. “How things have gone the last year. Think we all do.”

“You gonna give me a lecture about how I should talk to him? Or that I’ve been a shit to you?" Louis rubs at his face. He feels tired. Like he’s checking another hard conversation off his list. When they’d all had dinner together just catching up about stuff, Laura laughing next to Niall as they told him all about the castle and how Niall proposed and Louis showing them all the Freddie pictures and videos he had on hand, Louis had thought he could avoid the hard bits. He always does. He wonders if he’ll ever learn.

Niall stares at him for a long moment. “No,” he says, “c’mon though, I’ve got some matches recorded. Take this.”

He holds out Mick and even though Louis’s about to say that the dog is able to walk himself into Niall’s lounge he doesn’t. Mick is warm when he takes him and Louis can feel himself unwind a little bit when they all settle on Niall’s giant sofa. 

Niall picks up the remote, doesn’t look at Louis when he says, “He should talk to you too.”

“Oh,” Louis fumbles a bit despite himself, steadies his hand on his knee as he leans forward. “I think he probably knows me too well to try.”

Niall laughs, the glow of the telly making his teeth flare white. “Fair enough.”

“I promise I won’t ruin your wedding,” Louis tries to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, too much of a habit at this point even when he doesn’t mean it. “Or the band.”

“This sounds familiar. Like I’ve heard it before, from someone else." Niall starts some match, Louis can’t be arsed to pay attention when Niall turns his head to look over at him. “What? Just saying.”

“It’s been long enough. And it sounds like that place will definitely be big enough for the both of us.”

“It is, that." Niall’s still got his eyes locked on him. “It’s gonna be sick, all of it. My stuff. Our stuff.”

“Alright, lad, you’re making me uncomfortable with the staring." Louis tries for a joke, Niall rolling his eyes.

“Haz is coming in a couple weeks for the lead up, gonna help me out." Niall shrugs. “You going to LA soon? Could maybe…?”

“Maybe.” Louis mumbles, not wanting to make any promises. “Harry cleared his schedule for that?" 

“Upon pain of death,” Niall says, cracking up. “Nah, c’mon Lou, you know he’s winding down like all of us. Or, winding up.”

“Right." Louis feels that slight panic creeping up the back of his neck again. 

“You also know,” Niall points out, “that Harry would drop whatever if any of us asked.”

“That he would." Louis wants to leave it at that, knows that Niall is better at leaving things alone than Liam ever is. 

“Fuck, though." Niall’s grinning again. “Can you believe it, lad? Me. Married. Before any of you lot.”

“Oh shit, am I supposed to coordinate with Payno to present you with an award?" Louis holds up Mick as protection when Niall gives him a look. “It is pretty mad, I have to admit.”

“I never would have thought I’d be here but,” Niall shrugs, “when you know, you know. Sometimes things fit.”

“Good for you both, really." Louis thinks back to that first call after Niall had hooked up with Laura, him shitting himself while Harry talked him off the ledge. The memory of Harry’s voice, certain when he told Niall how things can work out, makes him blink so hard his eyes hurt. It was already starting to go bad at that point, and he can still feel himself go maudlin. He clears his throat. “You two...it’s good how it turned out for you.”

Niall’s got a look on his face Louis can’t place. “It is. C’mon, you’ve distracted me enough from this match as it is.”

Louis laughs, feeling relieved. “Fuck off.”

“You fuck off,” Niall says easily. “Hey,” he adds, pausing long enough that Louis turns his head.

“Yeah?”

“It can be good the other way, too." Niall laughs. “Or however I should say that.”

“Okay then." Louis says quickly, turning his head back to pay attention to the telly. Niall stays silent. 

It’s a shit game, but he and Niall talk up a storm the whole time, banter back and forth until Louis’s gone comfortable and boneless on the sofa. 

**

Louis has never pretended to be a lot of things in his life, not really. He’s got a temper, he shuts down, he’s quick to judge. There’s a lot of things that he’d consider his flaws.

When he gets off the plane at LAX a couple of weeks later, he breathes a fucked up sigh of relief. He’d waited to book his flight until he saw the pap shots of Harry at Heathrow even though he’d been free for a few days to head out. He knows everyone thought he was in LA already. So maybe that’s his biggest flaw. Avoidance. 

It’s probably Niall’s upcoming wedding that’s got the paps out when he makes his way to the car; he thinks that he can hear one of them yell something about it as he climbs in the backseat. Either way, he certainly didn’t sneak off undetected to LA this time like he’d thought. 

The driver, one of the handful Louis has been using the last year, asks him if they’re going straight to Briana’s. Louis could use a kip, he knows, and definitely a shower, but then he glances at the empty car seat next to him and he nods. He can sleep for a week in Ireland; for now, he wants to focus on Freddie. 

**

Louis didn’t mean to fall asleep in the rocking chair, but Freddie had been the level of fussy where he’d stay in his cot for his nap only as long as Louis was still in the room. He’s not sure how long it’s been, but his phone rings loudly and Louis jolts awake, looking wildly at where Freddie’s still curled up.

“‘lo?” He answers without looking at who it is, edging out of the room and closing the door behind him. He’ll flip on the monitor in the lounge; it’s mid afternoon, judging from the light streaming through the windows. 

“Hey." Harry sounds hesitant, almost like he wasn’t expecting Louis to answer. Which, truthfully, Louis wouldn’t have if he had known. He turns on the monitor before he sinks down on the sofa.

“Harry." He says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but nothing comes out.

“You alright? You sound…" Harry trails off. “I double checked the time before I called.”

“Freddie’s napping later now,” Louis hears himself saying, still unguarded with sleep. “I had fallen asleep in the chair. The rocking chair.”

“That chair is good for a kip." Harry laughs, low, and Louis takes a deep breath so he doesn’t hang up the phone. 

“It is." Louis takes a deep breath. “He’s uh, he wouldn’t lie down unless he could see me.”

“That’s Kumquat." Harry says it like it hasn’t been nearly a year since he’s seen him. It’s odd and familiar, to hear him say it. 

“I have to admit,” Louis decides to give Harry something, anxious to keep the conversation on a level that he can deal with, “that nickname has stuck.”

He didn’t mean it to, but it kept slipping out. It usually comes out now when he’s putting him to bed, something soothing in it when he whispers it in the dark of Freddie’s bedroom.

Harry laughs, sounding even more like himself. “Good. It suits him. Keep reminding the little lad it was Uncle Haz that bestowed it upon him.”

“I will not." Louis pauses. “he really loved the gift. I keep all his toys in it.”

“You keep all his toys in a Burberry raincoat?" Harry doesn’t pause long enough for Louis to protest before he continues, “I know, the castle part.”

“You know Big Bear?" Louis slides down on the sofa, stretching his foot out to rest on his table. “With the --”

“Big ribbon, yeah yeah. Of course." Harry swallows audibly. “Does he fit in there?”

“Fuck, only just. He crawls in there and falls asleep on him all the time.”

“Do you fit in there too, Lou?" Harry laughs. “Big Bear was round about your size, if I recall.”

“How dare you." Louis can’t help the small snort that escapes. “I do, it’s a tight fit, but. Good for storytime. It’s not that small.”

“It felt small.” Harry says. “In the store. I was going to climb in myself but someone had their phone out and I didn’t want my gift to get spoiled.”

“Yeah,” Louis can hear the sharp edge creep into his voice, “I do track all your movements, Harry. I would have seen it right away.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Harry sighs.

“Liam had said you were in LA." Harry has that flatness to his voice Louis wishes he didn’t remember from the end. “I stopped by your place.”

“Oh." Louis sinks down even further, his heel skidding along the top of his table.

“Tessa was there, said she didn’t know when you were going to get in." Harry sighs again before he continues. “Saw the pap shots of you. I know enough about London to LA flights, Lou. I know you waited.”

“You don’t know --” Louis starts, knows his voice sounds weak and Harry knows him better than anyone; that he always will no matter what’s gone on. 

“Louis. C’mon." Harry’s breathing harder on the other end. At least it goes both ways and Louis knows he’s not crying. Upset, maybe. But not that.

“We’ve managed to talk just fine until now, and we’ve both been in LA plenty at the same time in the last few months without you stopping by.” Louis says, Harry scoffing in the way that Louis hates. He must be too tired to get mad this time because it just makes him feel out of sorts. 

“We both know --” Harry exhales. “It’s a week. It’s more than that, really. But I just wanted to --”

“Get it out of the way, yeah." Louis finishes. He thinks he can almost hear Harry’s sad smile, just in how he’s breathing. 

“Something like that." Harry laughs, or it’s close enough to a laugh that Louis can pretend. “But I don’t know if --”

He’s cut off by Freddie’s sudden cry, loud enough that Louis would have heard it even without the monitor. Louis nearly drops the phone.

“I should --” Louis starts at the same time Harry says, “Before you go --”

“I really should go, but…” Louis trails off to give Harry a chance to finish, turning down the monitor before getting up and walking toward Freddie’s bedroom. He knows that it’s not the type of cry he’ll settle back down from, not without Louis going back in there.

“No, it’s alright." Harry says. “Go.”

“Okay,” Louis allows; it’s easy enough and Freddie is crying a whole octave higher at this point.

“See you soon, Louis." Harry says before he rings off completely. It still feels sudden. 

“Alright,” Louis says as he opens the door to his room. He’s standing in the cot, face red and tearstained. He holds up his arms and Louis picks him up, rubbing at his back. 

“What’s so sad, Kumquat?" Louis murmurs into the side of Freddie’s face, kissing his temple gently. Freddie curls his fingers in the collar of Louis’s jumper and sighs, kicking his legs against his stomach.

“C’mon love, we’ll go cuddle on the sofa and watch some telly." Louis grabs his blanket from the cot and drapes it over Freddie’s back, putting Harry out of his mind as best he can. It’s just seeing him, now. He’s done the first step, at least. 

**

Liam throws Freddie up again a little higher this time, Freddie giggling wildly as he catches him. He bends a little at the knees the next time he does it, and Louis is suddenly grateful his place has high as fuck ceilings.

“Please don’t drop my son, Liam." Louis scrolls through the notifications on his phone; Mum and Fizzy are having some sort of row on the family group chat and it’s been blowing it up for nearly an hour. 

“I wouldn’t." Liam’s too busy to even sound hurt as he drops Freddie down between his knees, bending down completely before tossing him up again.

“Liiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Freddie squeals as he lands again in his grip, his tiny hands gripping at his beard. Liam’s mouth drops open and he turns to Louis, shifting Freddie to his hip.

“Tommo, please tell me you heard him, he said my _name_." Liam’s beaming; it’s the contagious sort that has Louis smiling back at him automatically. 

“He sort of did." Louis shakes his head. “He’s said your name before, Liam. He just said it earlier after you got in and coached him over it for an hour.”

“He did. But this time he said it unprompted. Freddie,” Liam holds him up again, and he kicks out his legs like he’s waiting to be tossed again. “Say my name.”

“Name." Freddie repeats, bouncing. Louis bursts out laughing at the crestfallen look on Liam’s face.

“Liam,” Louis says clearly, Freddie looking in his direction. “Freddie, _Liam._ ”

“Liam,” he repeats, nodding. The way he says it sounds more like “Leem” but it’s better that way, anyhow.

“I’ll take it." Liam presses a kiss to Freddie’s forehead before he sets him down. They watch him toddle away toward the toy box Louis keeps in his lounge. “He’s walking better.”

“He’s running better." Louis shakes his head. “It’s nonstop.”

“You should bring him." Liam says suddenly. “To the wedding, I mean.”

“And lose him running away in a castle?" Louis snorts. “Not on, Payno.”

“Just saying." Liam shrugs. “Might be fun.”

“I’m not putting him on a plane yet." Louis makes a face. “Especially not that long of a flight.”

“We’re gonna die, it’s true." Liam agrees, reaching for an apple from the bowl on Louis’s counter. 

“I can’t believe you voluntarily flew for a million hours to fly another million back with me when you could have gotten away with a quick flight." Louis had been surprised when Liam called him and said he was coming so they could fly in for the wedding week together since Louis was planning on going straight from LA, but he can’t say he’s not grateful.

“I missed the little lad." Liam grins over at where Freddie is sitting with one of his favorite books. “It’s been a couple months since I’ve seen him. I don’t know, I had the time and I wanted to.”

“I wasn’t going to flake." Louis says suddenly, the possibility that Liam came for that reason hitting him. “I wouldn’t.”

“I know you wouldn’t." Liam says around a mouthful of apple. “But it’s easier if we go together, just in case…”

“In case Harry greets us at the door?" Louis snorts, ignoring how his stomach jolts at the suggestion. “I have spoken to him, Liam.”

“You--” Liam splutters, bits of apple spraying everywhere. “When??”

“You haven’t heard?" Louis’s surprised, and weirdly pleased that it hasn’t made it’s way through their little grapevine. “He called after I first got here, he had…”

Louis trails off, realizing that he’d never told Liam the truth about how he’d waited and told Liam he’d already left.

“He had what?" Liam asks, Freddie babbling to himself behind him. Louis takes a deep breath.

“I hadn’t, erm, left when I said,” Louis says quickly, looking away from Liam’s face, “I waited until I knew for sure he wasn’t here, and I guess he knew from you that I was here, so he’d stopped by, he -- he knew what I had done.”

“Good thing someone does." Liam says, his face unreadable when Louis meets his eyes again. 

“I got papped." Louis coughs. “He called after he saw that.”

“Was it --" Liam trails off, his apple forgotten on the counter. 

“It was fine." Louis says truthfully. Because it was, mostly. “No one killed anyone. We mainly talked about Freddie.”

“That’s good!” Liam says, looking far too excited for the situation. “I feel good about this, Louis. I bet by next year this time we’ll be on tour like always.”

Liam looks so much like a living, breathing happy face emoji that Louis feels bad for how much he wants to punch him.

“Jesus bloody Christ, Liam." Louis closes his eyes briefly. “I’m uneasy as,” Louis lowers his voice for Freddie’s benefit, “fuck about this whole trip, and you think after one ten minute call we’re all having a group hug on tour?”

“I prefer to think positively." Liam doesn’t even stop smiling. “And come on, Tommo, just two months ago you were scared crapless to even call him at all.”

“Don’t say crap,” Louis says automatically. It’s on the list he and Briana had agreed upon.

“Scared...poopless." Liam leans forward. “Can I say poop? I was trying to not say the other one when I said the c-r-a-p one.”

“This is the most ridiculous conversation we’ve ever had in our entire lives." Louis walks over to where Freddie is still playing quietly and picks him up, just to have something to do. He pats at Louis’s cheek with his hand when Louis drops a kiss on the top of his head, and it makes him feel a little more settled.

“I don’t know if it’s the most,” Liam says, stepping forward to poke his finger into Freddie’s stomach. “But give us time, Tommo, we’ve got years and years to get proper worse.”

“I suppose we do." Louis kisses Freddie’s head again. They leave in two days. Two days and he’ll have to deal with everything. 

He can do it. Probably.


	3. the wind keeps pushing you to me

“Where the fuck _is_ this place?” Louis shifts in his seat, trying to get rid of the pins and needles that have now spread from his arse to his legs. This is the third fucking leg of their journey today and at this rate, nearly twelve hours in, he wouldn’t be surprised if it were actually never-ending. Leaving from LA was a horrible idea, even if it did give him extra time with Freddie.

“It’s only another,” Liam pauses, glancing at the clock on the dash, his face twisting up while he tries to do the mental maths, “half hour? Hopefully.”

Louis groans. He knows he’s being a twat, complaining the last hour of the flight and for the entire drive so far. He’s annoying even himself, but he can’t help it. There’s too much nervous energy built up in his system, too much dread. 

“How are you so awake right now?” he asks, shifting in hopes that he’ll magically find a comfortable position in this horrid rental car. They should’ve hired a driver, but no, Liam wanted a proper lads road trip.

“I slept on the plane?” 

“So did I, doesn’t mean I’d be up for driving to the middle of fucking nowhere right now.”

“You make this trip all the time, Tommo.” Liam’s laughing at him. “Shouldn’t you be used to it?”

“Normally I take the red-eye so I don’t want to die.” Louis twists, cracking his back. “And normally I don’t have to drive for a hundred years after I’ve landed.”

“Yes, because LA traffic is so wonderful, it never takes a day and a half to get home. I’m imagining all those times you call me from your car just to bitch about it.”

“You know what,” Louis starts, trailing off because he doesn’t know where he was going. He socks Liam in the shoulder instead, laughing when the car swerves as Liam winces. 

“Keep your hands to yourself, Jesus.” Liam punches him back, laughing as the car swerves again. He’s been painfully upbeat all day. Part of it is because he’s excited for the wedding, a week away with everyone, but Louis knows another part of it is because he’s trying to keep Louis’s mind off everything. Off Harry.

As if anything could distract Louis today. 

Still, it’s a kindness and Louis tries to accept it. He closes his eyes and listens to Liam sing along with the playlist he’d made specifically for this drive, a mix of his current favorites and classics and a handful of old demos they’d recorded that never made it onto albums. If it’s a play at getting Louis thinking about the end of the hiatus, it’s a remarkably subtle one.

Exhausted as he is, he’s too keyed up to drift off. By the time they get to the castle, he’s got a headache and his eyes hurt. 

“Lads!” 

Louis has to steel himself before he turns around, preparing for the slim possibility that Harry’s standing with Niall. It’s unlikely -- the silver lining of this hellish day is that it’s so late right now people probably aren’t milling around -- but anything’s possible.

“How was the trip?” Niall asks, hugging Liam first. Louis exhales when he sees it’s only him and Laura in the foyer. 

“Terrible.” Louis folds himself into the hug. It doesn’t ease any of the tension in his spine, but he thinks he’ll be carrying that around all week.

“Someone had a baby with them who whined the whole flight.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “So help me god, if you say _I_ was that baby.”

Liam winks at Laura, both of them laughing. 

“Everyone’s mostly asleep,” Niall says, Liam making a sad sound at that. Louis doesn’t breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s a near thing.

“Did you stay up for us? You didn’t have to.”

“It’s no trouble,” Laura says, even though she looks as beat as Louis feels.

“But like, there’s a pub down that hall if you’re up for it. Breakfast’ll be that way in the morning. Someone’ll show you your rooms. Have you seen Victor, pet?” Niall stops pointing down various corridors and blinks at Laura, confused. 

“Right here, Mr. Horan.” Victor steps out of the shadows, smiling gently. “This way, gentlemen, if you’d like?”

“See you in the morning,” Niall says, yawning as Louis and Liam follow the valet to a massive staircase.

There are numbers on the doors of the guest rooms. Liam stands outside his for a moment, staring at Louis.

“It’s fine,” he says, answering the question Liam won’t dare ask. Not here. Not right now.

His room is a bit farther away. Louis looks at each door they pass, wondering if one of them is Harry’s. Maybe Niall’s put him on a separate floor. Surely this place has a cellar or some shit, special quarters for people trying to avoid other guests.

It’s a relief once he’s in his room. He hangs up his suit and then thinks fuck it and kicks off his clothes, crawling straight into bed.

He only spends an hour or so lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering where exactly Harry is and how he’s doing and what Louis’ll say to him when they finally see each other. He falls asleep playing the conversation through in his head. 

**

“I have work to do,” he says, glancing at the door before going back to his breakfast. He doesn’t need to look at Liam to know he’s gone all big-eyed and pouty. “Honestly, that’s not going to work on me, Payno, I don’t know why you keep trying.”

“It’s a _gun range_.” 

Louis snorts. “As if Niall’s going to let any of us near weapons. There’s no way it’s open this week. And if you think I’m walking all the way over there just to check.”

“You’re no fun.”

Louis flips him off. “Cheers, love.”

“They’re golfing.” Liam jerks his head toward the door. Louis hadn’t realized he’d been staring at it again. “I ran into Nialler on my way back from the gym this morning, he said him and Haz had an early tee time. I guess this place has a course, too.”

Louis sinks back in his seat. At this point he doesn’t know if he’s glad or annoyed. It’s like being in a haunted house, knowing something’ll pop out at you but not knowing when it’ll happen. It’s agonizing. 

“What doesn’t it have?” he asks, knowing he sounds distracted. “Wait. You went to the gym this morning?”

Liam shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep!” 

“You disgust me. This is a _holiday_ , Payno.” 

“You’re the one going on about how he has to work!” 

“And I do!” It’s that or keep picking fights with Liam to keep his mind off everything, and at this rate, Liam is going to get sick of him. Even he has limits. 

“Fine.” Liam reaches for his phone, making no move to follow Louis back upstairs. “I’ll swing by yours around lunchtime?”

Louis tries not to make a face. All these group events. He loves Niall more than most people on this planet, but right about now he wishes he’d been bold enough to bring some weed. He’s mostly laid off since Freddie was born, but he’d kill someone if it meant he could hotbox one of the ornate bathrooms. At least _then_ he’d be able to relax for four fucking minutes.

“I might still be busy then.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “You can’t hide forever.”

“I’m not _hiding_ , I have actual work to do.”

Liam doesn’t say anything at all. He doesn’t have to. The look on his face says plenty. 

Louis pulls out his phone as he leaves, calling up one of the eight billion documents he’s supposed to be reviewing for the label. He’s going to be productive if it kills him. That’ll show Liam. 

**

It’s probably because he’s desperate for a distraction, but Louis loses himself in his work. He only pauses when Liam starts texting him while simultaneously knocking on the door.

_Lou_  
_Lou_  
_Louis_

“Jesus Christ,” he says, wrenching open the door. Liam grins. 

“Oh good, I’m starving.” He grabs Louis’s arm and drags him into the hall before he can process what’s happening. 

“Liam!”

“Relax.” Liam adjusts his grip on Louis’s wrist, loosening but not letting go. It’s like he’s worried he’s a flight risk. Which is fair, but still. A bit rude. “They’re not back yet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Louis grits his teeth. He’s not _worried_ , it’s just. It’s a different beast.

“I’m not trying to avoid him,” he says, because he’s not. They’re going to have to see each other and he’d rather it sooner than later. The longer it takes, the more time he has to prepare for the worst. It’s only making him dread it more. “Christ, Payno, it’s Niall’s wedding. I’m _prepared_ for it, it just…” 

He doesn’t know how to explain it. Liam’s sat through the brunt of it, this whole year. If he doesn’t understand what Louis means, then they’re both sunk.

“Right.” Liam settles his palm at the base of Louis’s neck, squeezing once. It helps. “Sad news, the gun range is actually off site. No shooting for any of us.”

Louis drops his jaw, pretending to be shocked. Liam elbows him hard enough to send him sideways. 

“Oi, be careful,” Louis says, fixing the painting he’s knocked askance. “Who knows how fucking old this shit is.”

Even though he’s not explored much, Louis can tell the whole place is mental. Part of him still can’t believe it’s _Niall’s_ wedding they’re here for. It seems like the type of place Liam would go head over heels for, pulling out all the stops for his girl and all their guests.

“You know what this is like?” Liam says after they’ve found a small table, their plates stacked with sandwiches and salad.

“Being on tour?”

Liam looks at Louis like he’s read his mind. “Yes!”

“Not as good, though,” Louis says around a full mouth.

“I dunno, it’s not half bad. Makes me kind of miss everything though, you know?”

Louis shrugs. It does, sort of. He’s enjoyed the hiatus -- in spite of its low points -- but spending so much time with Liam lately has made him hyper aware of the way things used to be. He doesn’t _miss_ it, necessarily, but there are times when certain things make their way back to the surface. Like now. 

Fuck. This week is going to be brutal, even without the whole Harry situation.

“Remember that time --” 

Across the room someone sends up shallow cheer and Louis looks up. Liam’s still talking but the sound drops out when he sees Niall and Harry walk in. Niall’s waving, his middle finger held high, and Harry’s shaking his head, laughing, his hand on the back of Niall’s neck the same way Liam’d had his hand on the back of Louis’s when they walked in.

It’s the quickest thing, the two of them ducking behind a pillar to get in line for the buffet, but Louis feels like it lasted for a full day. His heart’s thudding so loud he can’t focus on anything Liam’s saying. 

“What?” He coughs a little, trying to refocus his attention. It doesn’t work.

“I said, ‘remember Japan?’” Liam’s got a full oblivious smile on his face and that’s good, Louis thinks. If Liam’s not noticed then maybe he’s actually holding it together.

“Yeah.” Louis laughs. He hopes it doesn’t sound as forced as it feels. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Niall making his way toward the only empty seats in the room. The table’s not near theirs, but it’s near enough. 

All Louis’s rehearsed conversations fall out of his brain as he wonders if he’s got enough time to duck out of the room before Harry sits down. Probably not. They’re sat too far from the door. This fucking castle should have like, escape routes, shouldn’t it? What good is a castle if it hasn’t got escape routes?

“Louis, are you -- oh.” Liam’s face changes in a split second and Louis knows, immediately, that Harry’s right behind him. “How’d it go?”

“Sick,” Niall says, his free hand coming down to squeeze Louis’s arm. “I crushed him.”

“I let you win,” Harry says. Louis turns just enough to see the easy smile on his face. It doesn’t look pasted on, not the way Louis is sure his own does. It’s unfair, how good he looks, his cheeks pink from a morning in the sun. “It’s my wedding present to you.”

Niall laughs loudly. “Don’t think Laura’ll love it, but cheers.”

“Oi, Horan!” Bressie waves his arm like he isn’t the biggest thing in the room. ‘“Come settle a bet.” 

“Shit. I’ll be back. Or I’ll see you whenever? I don’t know. This’ll probably take awhile.” Niall looks truly beleaguered as he hurries away, leaving Harry stood there awkwardly. Suddenly he looks less sure of himself. That, more than anything, sets Louis at ease.

“Hi,” he says. 

He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but it looks like Harry relaxes the tiniest bit. “Hi. Heard you got in late.” 

“Wasn’t too terrible,” Liam says, and Louis can’t keep his face neutral.

“Wasn’t too terrible? Are you --”

“Oi, Styles!” Niall yells, making all three of their heads turn to where he’s got a chair pulled out, waving Harry over. 

“Oh.” Harry chews his lip, looking back to Liam and Louis’s table for two. “I should --”

“Yeah, of course.” Liam waves him away, his smile so bright it manages to put Louis at ease even though it’s not directed at him. “We’ll see you later, yeah?”

Louis is watching Liam, but he still notices the way Harry’s eyes cut to the side, like he’s checking in with Louis. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll see you.”

“Later,” Louis says, but it’s too late. Harry’s already halfway across the room. He blows out all his breath. 

Liam doesn’t say anything, just looks at Louis with raised eyebrows.

“What?” Louis looks around the room. If this is Niall’s wedding, this place should be serving alcohol already, right? It’s five o’clock somewhere for fuck’s sake. “I think it went well.”

“Sure.” Liam nods like he’s a fucking bobblehead. “Sure it did.”

**

The thing is, Louis doesn’t know how else it could’ve gone. It’s not like they’re on the precipice of a fight. That was the whole reason for splitting up in the first place -- so they could do things like this. Be fucking civil to each other. And they were very fucking civil.

“It was just weird, is all. Seeing you be so polite to him. I’ve never seen you be that polite in your whole life.”

“Fuck you, I’m polite all the time.”

Liam rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, looking like he’s praying for strength. It’s dark in the bar that’s part of the castle. Louis had thought it was a joke when he’d seen the sign, _Derby Bar_ on a plaque outside the door. He’s ninety percent sure it’s a huge part of why Niall picked this particular castle. 

“Tomlinson, I heard you were here, where’ve you been?” Eoghan plonks himself onto the nearest empty barstool with a huge grin.

“He’s been ‘working’ all day,” Liam says, pulling a face when he makes finger quotes.

Eoghan’s eyes go wide. “Thought you were supposed to be on a break? Who brings work to a wedding?”

Louis signals to the bartender that he needs a fresh pint. It’s been a long-arse day, even if he has spent most of it tucked away in his room. “Those of us who get roped into week-long festivities.” 

“Fair point.” Eoghan clinks his full glass against Louis’s mostly empty one. “Can you believe this place?”

“Pretty sure the whole thing’ll be over before I do,” Liam says. He waves at someone in the distance and for a brief second Louis’s stomach drops.

“Hi, loves!” 

Louis turns just in time to see Rochelle waving back. “I didn’t know you were here,” he says, willing his heartbeat to return to normal. He’d thought he was through with the dread, having seen Harry already. Apparently not.

“Only just got in.” She hugs them all in turn. It’s a nice stretch, the four of them chatting about work and the like. That’s probably why Louis isn’t expecting it when she nudges his arm and says, “So, how’s the little one?”

“Oh, he’s fantastic, cheers.” He knows he lights up like a bloody torch but it’s impossible to keep the grin off his face when he’s talking about Freddie. “He’s gotten so big, it’s unbelievable. I remember when he used to be like this.” He holds his hands in an approximation of how tiny he was when he was born, no bigger than a loaf of bread. He can’t believe he’s walking now. Can’t believe a lot of things about him. He’s a bloody miracle.

“They do that,” Roch says. She taps her fingers on the back of his hand. “Come on, I know you’ve got pictures.”

He pulls up an album on his phone and hands it to her, beaming as she coos over each one. A crowd starts to form and he can’t bring himself to care, he’s too busy pointing out what a genius Freddie is, stacking his blocks and sorting his stuffed animals into neat piles. 

“And this,” Liam holds his phone out, “is five seconds _after_ those pictures, when he’d used a tiger to knock the whole tower down. Here, wait, I think I have video of it.”

It’s too loud in the bar to hear Freddie’s belly laugh as he’d destroyed all their hard work -- he’d stacked a few blocks, but Louis and Liam had helped make one taller than he is. 

“You didn’t send me this!” Harry reaches forward, gently hitting Liam in the arm. Louis tightens his grip on his glass; he hadn’t realized Harry was here. Hadn’t realized he was in the bar at all, let alone standing at the edge of the crowd, listening to him prattle on about Freddie.

“They’re just from a few days ago, I was going to get to it eventually!” Liam holds his hands up defensively. “When have I let you down before?”

“His birthday?”

“I thought I’d sent them, I told you!”

“Yes, that is what you told me.” Harry sounds annoyed but he’s got that smile he always gets when he’s fucking with Liam. 

Louis tries not to make a face. He’s not annoyed. He doesn’t care, really. He’s always known that Liam passes along pics and video to Harry. He’d cleared it with Louis long ago, and it’s infinitely better than Louis sending them himself. But it’s still strange, having it go from this abstract thing to... whatever this is.

Harry takes the phone from Liam, setting his drink down so he can hold it close to his face. He lights up as it plays and then restarts it, holding it close to his ear so he can hear. It seems like it should be impossible, but somehow his smile gets even bigger.

“He’s talking so much,” he says, watching it again. 

“Oh, he doesn’t shut up,” Louis says.

Harry’s dimples are deeper than he’s ever seen. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but bites his lip instead, thumb tapping the screen to play it again.

“Oh so he does take after you, Tommo,” someone says, and Louis knows he laughs but he can’t look away. He’s just as stuck watching Harry as Harry is watching Freddie. It’s just as mesmerizing as it used to be, when he’d stand in the doorway and watch Harry rock him back to sleep. Fuck. Of all the internal meltdowns he figured he’d have this week, he hadn’t anticipated _this_ one. 

Eventually Niall shows up and nicks the phone right out of Harry’s hands. “Don’t make that face at me, Styles, you’re the one hogging all the baby pics.”

“You could’ve asked nicely,” Harry says. “I know how to share. By the way, you got like, twelve texts while I was watching it, Liam.”

“What?” Liam tries to grab his phone back but Niall blocks him. “From who?”

“I don’t know.” Harry reaches past Louis to take his drink back. There are fewer people gathered around them now, probably because Harry’d been hogging all the footage. Louis is glad no one’s breathing whiskey breath against his neck anymore. “I was too busy trying to watch the most beautiful baby in the world.”

“Don’t get a big head about it, Tommo,” Niall says. “He called Mick the same thing this morning.”

Harry’s jaw drops. Louis can’t hold back his laugh.

“Lumping my kid in with that mutt? Real nice, Harold.” He thinks his voice sounds fairly normal. 

Harry holds one hand at waist-level. “Mick.” He stretches his other hand as high as it’ll go. “Kumquat.”

“How _dare_ you,” Laura says, appearing behind them. Just in time, too, because Louis is feeling like his heart is in danger of exploding right out of his chest. She expertly dodges Niall and Liam and plucks the phone right out of Niall’s hand. “I’m reassigning your job.”

“Ha ha, now you’re in trouble.” Niall points, laughing.

“Can I please have my phone back?” 

“No,” Harry and Laura say in unison, their heads ducked together. Harry’s saying something Louis can’t make out, narrating the pictures like he’s familiar with all of them. Louis makes himself look away. He needs another drink.

“Come on, Payno,” he says, smiling gratefully when the bartender sets a fresh pint down in front of him. “There’s foosball. First to ten gets, I don’t know --”

“Ten picks out of the jukebox?”

“Sure.” Louis knows he’s probably too distracted to win. They’re all going to be forced to listen to ten bloody Drake songs in a row, but oh well. Anything to get him away from Harry’s beaming face.

“My phone,” Liam says, turning back. Louis catches his sleeve.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure your mum’ll text you later.”

“Fuck you, twat.” Liam shoves him. “I’m going to beat you ten-nil.”

Louis shoves him back and then sprints away, toward the corner where the table’s waiting, still empty. Thank god. “You wish, Payno.”

Liam fishes the ball out of the side well and holds it above centerfield. Louis spares one glance back towards the bar; the three of them haven’t moved. Louis takes a deep breath, centering himself. Maybe he’ll stay over here all night. It’s safe over here.

He takes a sip of his drink before setting it to the side. Liam raises his eyebrows. Louis nods.

“Game on.”

**

Louis shuffles out of his room with a groan. He can still taste sambuca on the back of his tongue. Fuck, he really regrets ordering that last round of shots.

Instead of heading towards breakfast he swerves, ducking out a side door instead. Fuck Niall and his bloody non-smoking castle. At least it’s nice outside, the grass damp with dew as he wanders around a corner, lighting a cigarette and praying he’ll run into a bench or something.

He stops in his tracks when he spots Harry, standing just far enough away that Louis can tell he’s talking but he can’t hear what he’s saying. Mick’s leash is wrapped around one of his legs and Harry seems like he’s trying to coax him into untangling himself.

Neither of them have noticed him. It’d be easy to back away, head round the other side of the building, finish his smoke in quiet. Crawl back inside and have a kip until his headache’s gone. 

Louis doesn’t do any of that. The only way out is through. He takes one step and then another, waiting until he’s close enough to say, “Skipping breakfast, Haz?”

Harry’s eyes go wide like he’s surprised to see Louis. Like he’s surprised Louis is talking to him out here, when no one else is around.

“Bit tied up at the mo.” He laughs at his own joke. It’s so bad Louis chuckles, rolling his eyes as he takes a drag from his cigarette. He turns his head, making sure to exhale away from Harry.

Neither of them says anything for a stretch. Louis shifts his feet, watching Mick sprawl on the grass, lazy as can be. He keeps trying to think of something to say but everything sounds so painfully stupid. The weather’s nice. This castle is mental. You look good. 

“Didn’t expect to see you out here,” is what he says, inwardly cringing the second it’s out of his mouth. 

Harry shrugs. “Mick duty.”

At the sound of his name, Mick scrambles to his feet, happily bounding over to sniff at Harry’s shoes. Harry bends to scratch behind his ears, mumbling something Louis can’t make out. 

He looks at Louis curiously as he stands up again; it takes everything in Louis not to turn away. “Surprised you’re awake this early.”

Louis raises one eyebrow. He doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I just meant I thought you’d be tired. From the jet lag, like.” Harry pushes his hair out of his face. “That flight always does a number on you.”

It had, but. 

“I’ve gotten used to it, I guess. With work and all.” He doesn’t know how much Harry knows, how much Liam’s kept him up on. If Harry’s followed along at all. Part of him wants to ask. He won’t, but part of him is desperate to know.

Harry just nods. “How’s it going?”

“X Factor? It’s good. The new season’s starting soon. It’s a fuckton of filming, though. I don’t know how we did it, seeing the contestant schedule is like.” He makes a soft explosion noise. It’s exhausting, just seeing his own weekly events laid out. Add in all the behind the scenes things and it’s unbelievable. 

“We were…” Mick pulls at his leash and Harry takes a few steps with him. Louis hesitates a second before following. 

Harry never finishes his sentence, so Louis says, “We were idiots.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Oi.” Louis flips him off. It makes Harry laugh, at least. It does something weird to Louis’s chest, makes his breathing come a little easier. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding himself until just now. “And you? Things are good?”

“Yeah.” Harry says it slowly, like he’s actually thinking about it. “I’ve been busy, which is nice. Still working with Dan a lot, I don’t know if you heard. Just writing but.” He shrugs.

“Sick.” Louis smiles. It feels cautious. He hadn’t heard, but probably only because he told Liam to shut the fuck up with the bloody daily Harry Tribune. It’s still good to hear, though. He’s glad that Haz is doing well.

The silence stretches out and Louis starts to feel that uncomfortable itch under his skin. His problem’s the opposite of earlier; now he’s got too many questions he wants to ask. Is Harry still painting? Did he ever finish his bloody Pollack wall? What about that song he was working on last summer, the one with that melody that gets stuck in Louis’s brain all the time still. Did he register it or is it still floating around in the voice-memo-and-moleskine stage?

“I,” he starts at the same time as Harry says, “I can’t.”

Louis shakes his head, making a you first gesture. Harry tugs Mick away from a patch of dandelions and says, “Oh, I was just going to say I can’t believe how big Kumquat is. He’s like --”

“Oh my god,” Louis says, knowing exactly where he’s going with it before he says it.

“-- a proper watermelon now.”

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose, trying his hardest not to smile.

“Or a grapefruit, I guess, if we’re sticking the citrus theme. Is grapefruit the biggest citrus?”

“I don’t know,” Louis says, shaking his head, still refusing to look at Harry. “Are you going to start calling him Grapefruit now?”

Harry looks away, checking that Mick’s not eating any grass. “Of course not.” When he turns back, there’s a strange look on his face. Maybe if Louis weren’t so hungover he’d be able to parse it. “That’d be ridiculous.”

“I’d show you more pictures, but I left my phone upstairs.” Louis pats his pockets like he’s worried Harry won’t believe him.

“Later, then. Mick, leave it.” Mick ignores him to piss on a brand new spot on the wall. Louis leans back against it; the stones are cool enough to feel refreshing. 

“So you’re on Mick duty the whole week?” Louis considers lighting a third cigarette but decides against it. He stuffs his fingers into the pouch of his hoodie instead.

“More or less. They’re not having a big wedding party but someone needs to help this guy down the aisle.”

The mental image alone is worth a million pounds. “Are you wearing matching Gucci prints, then?”

Harry’s face goes stony for a split second before he realizes Louis is taking the piss. Louis starts laughing before Harry even says, “Oh, Niall vetoed that immediately.”

“What a fucking shame,” Louis says, still laughing at the idea of Harry and Mick in matching florals. Or polka dots. Or whatever it is Harry’s wearing these days. “I can’t believe Niall’s being such a stickler for dress code.”

“It’s his wedding,” Harry says, managing to convey that he’s been kidding about the matching outfits while also sounding like someone who’s heard that exact phrase a thousand times. Louis isn’t sad he missed out on all the planning. He remembers his mum’s last one, what a pain in the arse it’d been. 

“Is that why we’re here?” Louis feigns shock. “I thought it was just our lads holiday, finally coming to be.”

“No, that’s tomorrow night.”

Louis laughs before he realizes Harry isn’t kidding. “Wait, what? Are we --”

“No,” Harry says quickly. “God, no. We’re not like, going anywhere, it’s just, you know how Niall is, and since we’re all four of us finally here, together, and it’s been so long. He’s got something planned.”

“What?”

“Oh, he won’t tell me. It’s a _surprise_.”

“So we could be going somewhere and you just don’t know it. It’s like that cat in the, what’s it…”

“Hat?”

“Fuck you, no.” Louis rolls his eyes at the way Harry’s grinning, so bloody proud of himself for being a mocking prat right now.“The cat in the box. The surprise isn’t a trip, but since it’s a surprise it _could_ still be a trip. We just don’t know.”

Harry blinks at him. “That’s not what that book is about at all.”

“I’m not talking about the bloody Cat in the Hat, you twat.” Louis shoves him. Harry reaches out, catching Louis’s arm to stabilize himself. It’s pathetic, probably, how hyperaware Louis is of the way Harry’s fingers are digging into his bicep. It just calls to mind other times Harry’d held onto him like that, hard enough to bruise, and it’s too fucking early for this. His headache hasn’t gone away at all, either. Life is so fucking unfair.

“It’s not what Schrodinger's cat was, either, but I know what you mean,” Harry says, still smiling. “I still don’t think we’re going anywhere. It’ll just be something around here.” 

His phone buzzes and he shifts away, reaching into his pocket to check it. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

“Ask him what we’re doing for our lads holiday.” He waits while Harry types it out. Niall’s response is almost immediate and Harry laughs at it, this short burst of sound. 

“It’s just the definition of ‘surprise.’” 

Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Come on.” Harry tugs on Mick’s leash. “It’s safe to go back to your room now.”

It takes Louis a second but, “Oh god, were you watching him so Niall could get it in? Jesus. I thought the groom wasn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I think he’s seeing plenty of her,” Harry says, laughing. “But not really. I told Niall Mick could stay with me last night, he just said he’d text me when I could bring him back.” 

“So when you said ‘not really’ you meant ‘exactly right, a hundred quid to Louis for hitting the nail on the head.’” 

“Potato, potahto.” Harry starts walking and eventually Mick follows. “You coming?”

“You go.” Louis waves him off. He could use another smoke, or maybe just five minutes to himself. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

When he’s gone, Louis tips his head back against the wall. He takes a deep breath and holds it in. It could’ve gone way worse, he thinks, feeling his pulse beat in his temple. Hangover aside, it’s not been a bad morning.

He’s still going inside and going back to bed, but because he wants to, not because he’s dreading the rest of the day.

**

By the time night rolls around, Louis feels better. 

“That’s the beer,” Niall says, pointing as he slings an arm around Louis’s neck. “It’s fucking magic.”

“Have you been sober at all since this week started?”

“Are _you_ asking me that question?”

Louis stares at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. It’s not a concession but it’s close enough for Niall to start laughing, pressing a smacking kiss to Louis’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, Tommo.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Niall’s kind enough not to mention any of the moaning and groaning that led up to today, which is just another reason that Louis loves him more than most people on this fucking planet. Louis carefully does not turn around to look where Harry’s flipping through a book of songs. Not even when Harry shouts, “NIALL. I FOUND US ONE.”

“Ten says it’s Go Your Own Way or some shit,” Louis says.

Niall stares past his shoulder at Harry. He’s probably mouthing the title. Fucking karaoke. Louis should’ve started drinking hours ago, at this rate. “It’s not, pay up.” Louis knocks Niall’s hand away. “I’m signing us up for one, FYI.”

“You and me? Nope.”

Niall claps him on the back. “It’s early yet. I’ll get you on that stage, Tomlinson.”

“I’ll carry him up,” Liam says. Louis glares at him. “What? It’s his wedding week!”

“Bring the book over, Harry!” Niall waves him over. Louis stretches, hoping to get Willie’s attention. He’s not sure if there’s no bartender tonight or Willie’s just helping out, but either way. 

“Round of sambuca?” 

“Fuck no, Willie, Jesus,” Niall says. “Three Jameson. One sambuca for the missus.”

“Wait, make mine a sambuca? Please.” Harry rolls his eyes at Niall’s betrayed look. “What? Shut up. At least I’m _doing_ the shot with you this time.”

It’s a minute before Niall nods. “I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, hurry,” Liam says suddenly, setting his phone down and reaching for his shot. 

“What?” Harry narrows his eyes. “We said no work this week, Liam.”

“No one agreed to that,” Louis says. 

Niall slides a glass to Louis. “Everyone _should_.”

“That’s absurd, though.” Louis can feel himself getting heated. It’s like he’s turned into Liam circa 2012, annoyed that no one’s taking a meeting seriously. “It’s not --”

“TO NIALL!” Liam says, shoving his glass into the center of their circle. His phone starts to walk vibrate across the bar, clearly ringing. Louis quickly echoes his cheer and knocks back his shot. Harry shudders after, his elbow bumping Louis’s shoulder.

“Shake it off,” Louis says, old habit after years of mocking him.

“Shut up,” Harry says, but he’s chuckling.

“Hi, sorry, yeah, I’ll be right there.” Liam plugs his free ear with his finger and hurries away without explanation.

“Oh, is she here?” Niall says.

“Who?” Louis looks from Niall to Harry to Liam’s back. Neither of them says anything. Louis pushes out of his chair and rushes after Liam.

He’s just in time to see Jade pull back from hugging Liam, a suitcase next to her, a valet waiting nearby with a garment bag that must contain her dress.

“Hi, Louis!” she waves when she sees him. It takes him a second to snap out if it.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” He hugs her, looking over her head at Liam, who’s studiously looking at the floor.

“Oh, Liam said he needed some company and you know how he’s got that face.” She does a spot on impression, Louis’ll give her that. “Plus it’s a free holiday in a bloody castle, sign me up!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t say.” He punches Liam in the arm. “I could’ve asked Pez. You two could’ve flown up together, had a whole week to chill in a castle.”

It hadn’t even occurred to Louis to bring one of his mates as a date. Jesus. The whole week would’ve been less stressful if he had Perrie to make jokes with. He probably wouldn’t have like, had a decent chat with Harry outside this morning, but he wouldn’t have had to suffer through the awkward first half of that conversation either, so whatever.

“Oh, you don’t have a date?” Jade wrinkles her nose, looking sad for Louis. “I can like, text Pezza, if you like. I think she’s around? Or maybe she’s got --”

“No, it’s alright. Cheers, though.”

“You’re sure?”

“He’ll be fine,” Liam says, nudging her with his arm. “Come on, I’ll show you your room and then we can go to the pub. It’s karaoke night.”

“Seriously?”

Louis stands there until he can’t hear their voices floating down the staircase anymore. It… it probably wouldn’t be better with Perrie here. Or it would, but. Fuck if he knows. It’s not like Harry’s brought a date and he needs to scramble to find someone. They’re… it’s fine. It’ll all be fine.

“Did you know Jade was coming?” he asks Niall once he’s back in the bar. 

“Yeah, of course.” Louis must be looking at him weirdly because Niall shifts away from him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Willie, without asking, slides a fresh pint over. Harry’s all the way across the room, listening with wide eyes to whatever the fuck Eoghan is saying. Louis wants to put his head down on the bar. He takes a long drink instead.

Niall’s still looking at Louis oddly.

“I just didn’t know,” he says. That’s probably what’s fucking him up the most. His own best friend, keeping secrets. “He never said he was bringing a date.”

“Oh,” is all Niall says, the unhelpful bastard.

Hours later -- or maybe not hours, Louis doesn’t know. It’s hard to keep track of time in this place, there’s barely any windows and Louis’s phone battery crapped out right in the middle of taking a video of Laura as the Ludacris to Niall’s Bieber. He hopes to god someone else got the whole thing.

“You know what’s weird,” Niall is saying now, holding the microphone and flipping through the book after Bressie and Eoghan’s terrifying and impressive rendition of No Control, “they don’t have any of your songs in here, Bres. I mean, me and the lads would do one of yours, but…”

Bressie yells something that Louis can’t make out and Niall laughs directly into the mic. 

“Good news!” Liam drops something onto the table, startling everyone. Jade lets out a tiny yelp and scooches closer to Louis. As much of a surprise as it was, her being here is actually pretty great. She’s like an extra layer of protection, someone for him to talk to when Liam inevitably gets dragged away by Niall’s friends and family. So far Louis has spent the majority of the night parked right next to her, providing his expert opinion on everyone’s performances.

“You finally got our drinks?” she asks Liam hopefully. He’d disappeared like twenty minutes ago, promising to come back with a round.

“Oh crap. Uh --” Liam turns, raising his hand. “Wille! Four more, yeah?”

“Cheers, Payno.” Louis kicks out the empty chair, nodding for him to sit in it. “How’s it going?”

“They have ‘Wings!’” It’s only when Liam flips open the binder he’d dropped that Louis realizes it’s an extra copy of the karaoke selection.

Jade lights up. “DO IT.”

“No way in hell.” Louis shakes his head. He’s careful not to look at Liam. There’s no fucking way he’s doing this.

“I think these are for you?” Harry stops next to Liam, looking confused. He’s got a tray of drinks in his hand. “Willie kind of pointed in this direction, but he didn’t say who they were for. There are more of them then there are you, though, so maybe…” He trails off, pivoting as he looks at the different clusters of people around.

Louis takes pity on him. “They’re ours. Liam’s just struggling with maths today.”

“Works out for you, though.” Jade nudges the final glass in Harry’s direction. He seems to hesitate for a moment but Louis doesn’t know if anyone else notices, because Jade beams at him. “Now help me convince these two that they should do a song.”

“Definitely,” Harry says immediately.

Louis raises his middle finger. Harry smiles over the rim of his glass; it makes him look evil. Louis rolls his eyes to keep from smiling back. He’s always loved Harry’s mean streak, the part of him that isn’t worried about being politically correct and pleasing everyone all the damn time.

“I think it’d be fun!” Liam says.

“You two do it then.” Louis points between him and Jade.

She hits him in the arm. “I’m not singing my own song, what kind of weird --”

“It’s a Little Mix song?” Harry’s face is all lit up. He looks like someone’s shown him a new picture of Freddie. 

“No fucking way,” Louis says, crossing his arms. He’s already done one song, that’s his allotment for the night. Now he’s just here for the laughs.

“Booooooooooo.” Liam shoves a thumbs down in his face. Jade joins in the booing while Harry shakes his head, mock disappointed, and blows a raspberry. 

“Oh, here you are!” Niall shows up, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. Maybe it’s the alcohol -- it’s probably the alcohol -- but this week seems to agree with him, make him look like he’s fucking radiating happiness. Louis is glad they’ve got a night for themselves tomorrow; it feels like they’ve barely had any time to hang out so far.

“Did Willie send you over?” Liam points to the tray Niall’s carrying. 

“What? Oh, no, these are for you guys. I was looking for you.”

“More shots?” Liam looks thrilled. Louis has the distant thought that tomorrow is going to be a nightmare. He should drink some water before he goes to bed. Whenever that ends up being. 

“Yes. And then,” Niall waits until they’ve all clinked glasses, “we’re up next, the four of us. I picked the perfect song.”

Louis doesn’t choke on his shot, but it’s a near thing. His eyes start watering. “What?”

Jade claps. Harry coughs into his fist. Niall absentmindedly pats him on the back and says, “I signed us up. It’ll be great. Don’t make that face, Louis, we haven’t sang together in ages, come on.”

“Everyone’ll love it,” Liam says. “We _have_ to.”

“It’s Niall’s wedding week!” 

Louis shakes his head at Harry and his blatant ploy. “I haven’t said shit, why’re you all ganging up on _me_.”

“We know you too well.” Harry smiles, bright and easy. His greatest smile. Louis blinks. Harry must be super pissed; he hasn’t looked at Louis like that in ages. In nearly as long as it’s been since they last sang together as a group.

“Alright, just this one.” Louis pushes to his feet, making everyone at the table cheer. “But then we’re retiring ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ forever, I don’t care what anyone says or if it’s a twenty-five year reunion special.”

“Are you kidding me?” Niall throws himself onto Louis’s back, making him stumble before finds his footing. He hitches Niall a little higher so he can walk. “I didn’t pick a fucking One Direction song, Jesus.”

“You didn’t?” Liam sounds a bit put out.

“Fuck no.” Niall slides of Louis’s back and reaches for a mic of his own. There aren’t enough for each of them. Louis backs up until he’s next to Liam. They can share.

Harry notices first, stepping onto the small area that’s serving as the stage. He turns back, his eyes gone wide and his mouth a perfect O. 

Louis takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “What? Niall, what did you do? What’d he do?”

Harry’s too far away to hear, though, because someone in the back of the room’s started chanting “1D 1D 1D” and the whole crowd picks it up. Louis turns to Liam who just shrugs.

“Shut the fuck up,” Niall tells the crowd. 

The song starts; Louis has to lean to see the screen around Harry, but the second the opening strains of “I Want It That Way” hit the crowd, people start clapping again.

Louis catches Harry’s eye over Niall’s shoulder; he’s laughing, shaking his head. At the crowd or Niall’s choice or the absurdity of it all, who fucking knows. 

It isn’t perfect by any stretch -- Louis misses most of the cues and Liam keeps doing his crazy runs that make Harry laugh mid-lyric, and Niall keeps trying to corrall them into a coordinated dance that none of them can follow. It’s fucking hilarious, though. Louis hadn’t thought he missed performing, but being up here, fucking around with them, it’s _fun_. It’s like it used to be, back before they all got so burnt out they were desperate for a break.

He catches Harry’s eye near the end, when they’re stacking the verse, _you are, you are, you are_ , and it’s instinct, the way Louis reaches out, pretending to cast a fishing line. Only it can’t be, because it’s been years since he and Harry fucked around on stage like this. 

That doesn’t stop Harry from jumping forward like he’s been hooked, letting Louis reel him in. He can hear Niall laughing hysterically behind him, fucking up the song by shouting, “LEGEND!” right into his mic. Louis doesn’t even _have_ a mic anymore, Liam’s belting into theirs, going for broke.

Harry’s right next to him, struggling to laugh and sing at the same time. It reminds Louis of being in the kitchen last summer, the two of them singing along to whatever playlist Harry had made that week. He’d get so annoyed whenever Louis would add songs without asking, but Louis’s choices were always far better for dishwashing singalongs. Most of the time, at least. Back before they started fighting for real.

He thinks Harry must be remembering the same thing, because his smile gets a little sadder. He still throws his arm over Louis’s shoulders when the song’s finished, the four of them in a line, taking a bow. 

Louis squeezes Harry’s hip and then stretches his fingertips out, tickling at Niall’s side. The whole room is a mess of cheers and boos and the flash of people’s cameras. It feels like deja vu.

He needs a drink. Or a glass of water. Or a cigarette. Maybe all three.

**

It’s already mid morning by the time Louis drags himself out of his room for breakfast, surprised that he doesn’t really have a hangover. He’d stopped drinking after they’d gotten off the stage, though, so that might explain it. Or maybe it’s a rare miracle.

Either way. He’s not going to complain.

It’s late enough that there aren’t many people milling about for breakfast as Louis loads up his plate. There are a couple of Niall’s cousins Louis’s not too familiar with sitting at a table in the corner, and there, right in the center of the room, is Harry. At least David’s with him, and Louis isn’t such a shit that he’d sit alone just to be a twat. Harry and David have already spotted him anyway, David waving him over.

Louis makes his way over and sits down, smiling at David and nodding at Harry when he meets his eyes. Harry’s look bright, and he must have gone for a workout with Mark earlier because he’s bundled up in a million layers and his hair’s curling out of his bun like it does when he gets sweaty. Louis tries not to stare, averting his eyes to nod at David instead.

“Louis, hey,” David says, pushing aside his empty plate. “Was just telling Harry, Ben and Mer are coming in later, I made the mistake of telling them I’d pick them up instead of them just calling a car.”

“You can just call one for them now,” Louis points out, his mouth full of bacon, “unless you want to drive for hours today.”

“I would, but Ben’d never let me hear the end of it." David laughs. “Harry, isn’t that true?”

“It’s true,” Harry stands up, picking up his mug. “Louis, you want a cuppa?”

“Uh, yeah." Louis hadn’t had enough arms to get one before. “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry waves his hand about like a you’re welcome gesture before he’s off, heading toward the beverage area. 

“He told me he’s been up since six,” David laughs, shaking his head. “He’s like an alien, sometimes. We were done last night at what, two? Later?”

“Haz is a morning person,” Louis shrugs, “it’s just him. Sometimes it’s fucking annoying but it’s good when you want someone to get you moving.”

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but it is something he’s been simultaneously a shit about and grateful for over the years. He still remembers how he’d discovered last summer that Harry will have a lie in as long as you promise him a slow morning shag, one that would wake Louis up slowly until he’d feel like he’d gone mad by the end. It puts a flush on his cheeks, to think about it. He blames Harry’s eyes last night; how he’d looked while they sang. 

“Oh, I know he’s a morning person, think anyone who’s known him is aware." David laughs, looking up past Louis’s shoulder. “Oi, Harry, we were just talking about you. Louis was defending your honor as an early riser.”

“Is that so?" Harry carefully sets a steaming cuppa in front of Louis before he sits back down. “Were you besmirching me then, David?”

“He was." Louis watches David hold his hands up in surrender over the rim of his mug as he takes a sip. 

“No one can win with you two." David laughs. “But I’ve really got to run, Niall needed my help with something before I go.”

“Cheers,” Harry says, Louis nodding with his mouth full as David ambles off. It’s silent after that for a few minutes, and Louis tries to decide if it’s entirely comfortable while he eats. Harry’s already got his phone out on the table, scrolling through something slowly. Louis used to hate when he’d do that at the table when it was just the two of them, but right now it feels settling. Like he’s at ease a bit. Like they both are.

“You didn’t want to go with him?" Louis asks once his tea is half gone and his plate is empty.

“Nope,” Harry pops his lips around the “P” sound. “It’s Niall’s big night, Lou. Don’t tell me you forgot." He looks up from his phone then, his eyes wide. 

“How could I forget? He texted how many reminders when he was pissed last night?" Louis laughs, taking another sip of his tea.

“It was…” Harry pulls up his texts on his phone. “Three.”

“Only three? It felt like more." Louis watches Harry go back to scrolling through Instagram again. “Am I that boring, Hazza?”

Harry looks up, his mouth twitching like it does when he’s trying not to smile. “Always.”

“Fuck off." Louis almost reaches his foot out to kick at Harry’s shin under the table, but something stops him at the last second. He’s not sure why, but he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet that’s settled between them.

“No, you,” Harry says lightly, his finger pausing. He starts to laugh.

“What?" Louis leans forward, trying to see what Harry’s laughing at. “Let me guess, Basquiat did something hilarious thirty years ago.”

“I’m ignoring that,” Harry turns his phone around so it’s facing Louis, his finger tapping at the top of his phone. “Don’t know if we’re having band lads’ night with Niall anymore, looks like he’s at his place.”

“Fucking hell." Louis looks at the picture of Niall’s telly and his foot up on the table, just the edge of one of Mick’s paws on his leg. “Doing fuck all is ace,” Louis reads the caption out loud.

“It’s a shame,” Harry lowers his voice, “do you think Laura knows?”

“I bet you’ll have to tell her." Louis shakes his head. “Break the news, Niall left her at the altar of this giant bloody castle _and_ took her dog.”

“I knew there was a reason Niall made me help him out so much." Harry sighs. “Guess I’ll go sort it out.”

“It’s been real." Louis snorts. “Will he ever stop with this shit?”

“I told him not to even try when someone here leaked that they’d booked it and the Mail picked it up." Harry laughs. “He’s still banking on some of his fans believing that Niall would never lie to them.”

“It’s not a lie, Harry,” Louis puts on his worst Irish accent, “it’s a deflection so I can live.”

“Aye,” Harry winks, and it’s so shit that Louis can’t stop laughing. “Oh, sod off, that was good.”

“That was shit, and you’ve always been rubbish at it. No no, don’t get up, I’ll stop,” Louis says, when Harry makes to stand, “it’s almost like you haven’t spent the better part of a decade with Niall.”

“Mhmm." Harry’s got his mouth closed up tight. “Anyway…”

“Anyway,” Louis’s tea is gone, but he doesn’t want to get up for more just yet. “You get it out of Niall what we’re doing tonight yet? I checked with Payno and he said he had no idea either.”

“He still won’t tell me, and believe me I’ve tried." Harry shrugs. “It’ll be something very Niall, I’m guessing.”

“Care to wager?" Louis says suddenly, taking in Harry’s slow grin. There’s a warmth spreading out in Louis’s chest, and for the first time -- the first time for real where he’ll let himself believe it, Louis thinks that maybe everything will work out. That they can find a new normal.

“I’m not going to the wedding with my head shaved or a flower up my bum, so what about a gentlemen’s agreement?" Harry’s dimples are deep, his eyes all crinkled up at the corners.

“Fair enough." Louis can’t disagree with Harry’s logic there. “It’s going to be something amazingly stupid. A round of golf.”

“That’s shortchanging Niall a bit,” Harry’s still smiling though, his face screwed up before he continues, “he’s probably going to make us do a show or something. Perform for Laura. Or, darts.”

“I’m putting you down as darts,” Louis pulls out his phone, typing out a text to Harry. It’s been so long that he has to start up an entirely new conversation after a moment of scrolling, realizing too late he’d deleted it months ago. _L Golf vs H Darts winner take all_. He knows that doesn’t escape Harry, who watches him carefully and holds his phone in his hand until it vibrates. 

“Alright." Harry slides his thumb across the screen, typing something up slowly before hitting send. “But, I really should go. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Cheers,” Louis waits until Harry’s nearly out of sight before he looks at his reply.

_All does not include anything awful H x_

** 

As more people have shown up by now, Louis realizes that it’s easier to spend the day catching up and not… _avoiding_ Harry really, especially since he’s not sure if that’s really as necessary as it was just a couple of days ago. He also is starting to realize just how much he and Harry had closed themselves off from the rest of the world the summer before. Just how little everyone knows -- it’s really only Niall and Liam who get it, and Laura, Louis supposes, though he’s sure Niall will deny telling her anything if pressed. 

At the time, it’d just happened that way -- it was easier to not deal with the labels between themselves, easier not dealing with whatever press might come out of it. Easier to close themselves up in Harry’s giant bloody house when Briana had Freddie and hang out and fuck and live in their little bubble. Easier to act as if nothing was going on during the few times they did go out or to an event. Easier to use the fact he didn’t want Freddie out too much yet to keep them at his, those times. Like for those few months, his world was shrunk down to just two people.

Christ. No wonder he’s been fucked for nearly a solid bloody year.

Niall didn’t tell them what to wear, and Louis hasn’t even seen him yet, so he ends up in a vest and jeans when he knocks at Liam’s door right before they’re supposed to all meet at the entryway. 

Jade answers before he gets through his second knock, and Louis fights to keep the smirk off his face.

“Louis!” Jade flashes him a huge smile. “You ready for your night out?”

“Or whatever it may be,” Liam says before Louis can answer, coming up behind Jade. “We bumped into Niall and he didn’t crack.”

“Oh, let him have his surprise,” Jade rolls her eyes. “I told Roch I’d have a little girly night with her, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Cheers, Jade." Louis leans forward, squeezing her shoulder. He looks at Liam, who’s standing there with that look on his face like he wishes Louis would fuck off. It’s bloody delightful.

“Ta,” Jade turns to Liam, and Louis stays put. “If it’s not too late…”

“Yeah, I’ll --" Liam clears his throat, his eyes cutting over to Louis. “Right. Enjoy your night, yeah?”

“Sure." Jade looks like she’s about to start off laughing. She rolls her eyes, popping up on her toes to brush her lips against Liam’s cheek before she’s off down the hall, leaving the two of them alone.

“So how’s it going then, Payno?" Louis grins, slinging his arm around Liam’s waist and propelling them out of the doorway. “You two songwriting in there?”

“Oh, sod off." Liam’s got a hint of a smile, though. “We were just, you know, being chill.”

“Well that doesn’t sound like it’s very much fun for her,” Louis starts, not expecting it when Liam tackles him, the two of them nearly going arse over ankles down the stairs. “Oi!”

“CAN YOU TWO NOT BREAK YOUR FUCKING SKULLS PLEASE?" Niall yells from somewhere down below. Louis can hear Harry laughing. 

“This is Louis’s fault!!!” Liam argues as they make their way to where Niall and Harry are waiting, big grins on their faces. Harry’s leaned up against the wall, and Louis tries to focus on Niall when Harry meets his eyes, smiling wide. He’s got his camera hanging from around his neck.

“Isn’t it always Louis’s fault?" Niall dodges Louis when he reaches out to punch Niall’s side. “Calm down, Tommo. This is lads’ night. I don’t want to hear your whinging.”

“I do not whinge." Louis straightens his shoulders when they all snort in unison. It’s bloody creepy, to be honest. “I don’t. I’m just _honest_.”

“These blatant lies,” Harry says from his place on the wall. Louis spins around in time to catch his slow smile, the way Harry’s eyes light up when Liam starts laughing on his other side.

“Can we please not start my night with a row?" Niall nods toward one of the side entrances, “C’mon, we’ve got to get to it.”

They all file out of the door, Harry holding it open until they’ve all passed through. The sun is low in the sky like it might be sunset, although Louis has been surprised all week at how late it gets before the dark settles in. 

“This place is ace, Niall,” Liam says suddenly as Niall leads them across the grounds, like he was reading Louis’s mind.

“I’ve taken so many pictures already,” Harry agrees, falling into step beside Louis. “So Niall, are we on some sort of schedule?”

“Yeah, it’s the Niall schedule, and you lot are lucky you were on time." Niall looks back over his shoulder and Louis can tell from how his cheek twitches that he’s winking.

“No, I just mean like,” Harry elbows Louis, and it’s so gentle that Louis could have chalked it up to the breeze, “a tee time, or something along those lines.”

“Ah." Niall turns back around. “Not a golf night, sorry Haz.”

“So not a golf night,” Harry repeats, and Louis chances a look over at him. Harry’s grinning, looking delighted, and Louis reaches out to pinch his side before letting his hand fall to the side at the last second. 

“That’s what Niall just said, Harry." Liam gives Harry a look, then raises his eyebrows at Louis. _Mental_ , he mouths, pointing at Harry.

“ _Liam_ ,” Harry gets that disappointed and annoyed tone he only has for Liam. “I was just confirming, it’s not abnormal.”

“You’re abnormal,” Liam counters, his face falling once he realizes. Louis starts laughing.

“Yeah, that’s what you’d already implied, Liam,” Harry snorts, “and I was saying I wasn’t.”

“Because,” he continues, Louis already anticipating it, “you are.”

Louis continues laughing; he can’t help it, not with Liam’s face all screwed up like he’s not sure how he wants to react and Harry shooting Louis looks like he used to ages ago, years before when they were all crowded together more often than not.

“Niall, I can’t believe you’re standing for this abuse,” Liam shoves at Niall’s shoulder, “this is not bonding.”

“It feels like bonding, Liam,” Louis says, Harry laughing beside him. Harry holds up his hand and Louis high fives him; it’s just a brief contact, but it feels so normal that Louis can hear himself exhale with relief.

“Liam, you’re fine. Haz, Tommo, chill." Niall points over to a small cottage looking place in the distance, “we’re almost there.”

“What is that place?" Liam asks, slowing up enough that Louis bumps into his back. Liam reaches behind himself like a barrier, catching Louis’s shirt in his grip.

“Payno --” Louis starts to complain, but Liam turns his head as Niall and Harry fall into step a ways ahead of them.

“Oi, you okay mate?" Liam lowers his voice, “you and Harry, you seem like it’s going well?”

“It is,” Louis’s too caught off guard to make a sarcastic remark. “Cheers, Liam.”

“Just wanted to check,” Liam shrugs. “Dunno what Nialler’s got on, and I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since last night, and --”

“We’re good." Louis nearly laughs at the look of disbelief on Liam’s face. “It’s better,” he amends. That feels more like the truth.

“Yeah,” Liam drops his arm across Louis’s shoulders, pushing him forward to catch up to Niall and Harry, who are already waiting at the entrance to the cottage. “I’ll take better.”

“Me too,” Louis says quietly to himself, raising his voice when they get close enough. “Niall, is this going to be where you murder us? Or,” Louis adds, his eyes meeting Harry’s, “darts?”

Niall stares at him for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. “Yeah, it’s neither of those things, Tommo.”

“Oh no,” Harry says quietly to Louis when Niall opens the door and they all file in behind him, “we didn’t come up with what’d happen if we were both wrong.”

“Probably for the best,” Louis stops in the doorway, looking around as Niall flips on the lights. “Is this -- Niall, is that FIFA?”

It’s a pretty small cottage, especially in light of how huge the rest of the grounds and the castle itself are; it’s a setup with a full lounge, a table, and a huge telly in the corner. There’s something about it that looks oddly familiar, but Louis can’t quite place it.

“Is this seriously it?" Harry says slowly, “Are we just playing FIFA?”

“I’d be down for that,” Liam says, shrugging when Louis gives him a look, “What? I would!”

“You’re all idiots,” Niall’s got his nose pinched between his fingers like he’s never been more annoyed with them all in his days. “I set it up special -- it’s...can’t you fucking tell?”

“It’s like our first huge tour bus,” Niall answers himself, and then it all clicks for Louis -- even the fabric of the sofa looks like Niall found it special. 

“What a sentimental twat,” Louis says, and Niall beams at him. Liam and Harry are both milling about, nodding and touching everything. 

“I am a sentimental twat,” Niall grins at them, “and it’s about to get proper sentimental.”

He disappears for a moment, through a doorway into some second room, maybe a loo. After a little bit of rattling around he comes out, pushing a small cart. It has a bunch of shit stacked on it, and in the middle is --

“A tattoo gun?" Liam’s voice has gone all high pitched. “Niall, what the --”

Harry starts laughing. “Niall, you do surprise me.”

“So you’re finally going for it,” Louis reaches out to rest his hand on Niall’s shoulder. “You feeling nervous, love?”

“Oh, that’s the best part," Niall starts laughing, can barely get out what comes next, “we’re all going for it.”

Louis meets Liam’s and Harry’s eyes in turn, all of them shrugging. It’s not like they haven’t gotten inked on a whim before. 

“Sure,” Liam grins, “so do you have someone coming? What are we getting?”

“Oh, I’ve got that all planned out and ready,” Niall looks at Harry, “and he’s already here.”

Louis watches Harry’s face go from confused to blank in a split second.

“Me?" Harry points to himself. “Me?”

“This is ace!” Liam looks like he’s about to start dancing, and Louis feels rooted to the bloody spot. 

“Yeah Haz,” Niall rolls his eyes, “you.”

“So I’m tattooing all of us.” Harry says it so slowly it’s glacial, even for him. Louis walks over to the bar setup and helps himself to a beer, both because he needs something to do and would love to be bloody pissed at this moment.

“You really did proper get everything, Nialler." Liam’s picking over the supplies with Harry when Louis turns around, half his beer gone already. “So what’s it gonna be? Another screw?”

“Ah, I can do something small like that, yeah,” Harry doesn’t look up from where he’s running his hand over the gun. 

“No,” Niall makes a face. “It’s -- here, I’ve already got it ready to transfer or however that goes, it’s in my handwriting and all.”

He opens a drawer on the cart, pulling out a few things. He hands it to Liam first, who looks down at it, confused. 

“These are just numbers? Or no, coordinates." Liam shakes his head. “Where do they lead?”

“Are we all going to have Mullingar forever on our bodies?" Harry asks, looking up with a smile on his face. He catches Louis’s eye, and Louis laughs.

“That’s clearly it, Harold." Louis steps forward and drops his arm around Niall’s shoulders, “Niall, I don’t know how that’s a proper group ink.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Liam says. “I wouldn’t, don’t start Lou.”

“I started not one thing." Louis can feel Niall’s shoulders tense up under his arm; luckily, it’s because he’s laughing.

“You all need to fucking stuff it." Niall says, “for ruining this moment. It’s for Motorpoint, y’know? In Sheffield.”

“For…” Liam trails off, and Louis doesn’t have to look at him to see that he’s welling up. “Oh, Niall.”

“That’s lovely, Niall." Harry has that wide-eyed earnest look he gets, like he’s never meant anything more in his life. Louis’s throat hurts with how much he suddenly can’t contain himself. He settles for squeezing Niall’s shoulder instead, feeling the sharp bone dig into his palm.

“Oi, Tommo, I didn’t willingly sign up for that pain,” Niall squirms away, his eyes bright. “So are you all up for it?”

“Of course we are,” Louis squeezes Niall’s shoulder again. “But you’re going first, so you can’t talk your way out of it.”

“I would _not_ ,” Niall starts sputtering, and Louis holds him in place.

“You would,” Harry grins, his dimples creasing deep, “that’s a good idea, Lou.”

“Sorry Nialler, but I agree." Liam holds up an alcohol wipe. “Where are you going to get it?”

“My arse, obviously." Niall answers immediately. 

“Well you had that answer prepared.” Louis laughs, “Harry, you up for tattooing this one’s bum?”

“For Niall, I would." Harry’s eyes go wide. “Because of his wedding.”

“If Niall wasn’t getting married, would you say no?" Liam asks, holding up the tattoo gun and pointing it Harry’s chest like he’s holding him bloody hostage. “Answer, Styles.”

“Well, no." Harry looks over at Niall and Louis, grinning as he continues, “that’s how much I love you, Niall. Arse tattoo level love. To the moon and back.”

Niall laughs. “Honestly, why do I put up with you?" He makes a face at Harry, who makes one back.

“This is certainly a bonding experience, Niall,” Louis drops his arm and walks over to stand next to Liam, taking in the tattoo layout Niall’s got set up. “This what you had in mind?”

“I was just thinking if we get them where it’s not likely to be seen, it’s better --” Niall starts, Louis already nodding because he gets it.

“Are you shaved?” Harry interrupts suddenly, holding up the package of razors that was laid out, “if you need me to I will, but.”

“I do _not_ have a hairy arse,” Niall’s turning red. “I thought it wouldn’t matter for that.”

“Maybe you should have asked Laura,” Liam says. “I bet she would have shaved it for you.”

“Christ, I need another beer." Louis turns back toward the drink cart. “Liam?”

“Do you want me to shave your arse in the loo, Niall?" Harry asks, his voice low, “for privacy?”

**

“I think I’ll get mine on my bum too,” Liam points his beer toward Louis, “it’s too bad you’ve already given up some of that real estate.”

“He’s got enough left over,” Niall says from across the room where he’s laid out on the massage table he’d pulled out for them to use, Harry bent over his arse, “you could fit a little more on there, yeah? Turn the other cheek?”

“Fuck off,” Louis groans, tipping his head back against the sofa. “I’m thinking, like, my hip, maybe? Where that one’s got his palm trees.”

He’s two beers in, just enough that he’s comfortable enough to banter about things like Harry, places that he’s known intimately enough that it’s hard to forget. 

“They’re laurels,” Harry says automatically, then, “alright, Niall, think we’re ready. Lemme go rinse this." He waves the razor in the air as he disappears, walking toward the loo.

“You two twats get over here,” Niall stretches out his arms, “and no pictures, you’re both holding my hand.”

“You’re such a baby,” Louis says, walking over as he rolls his eyes, “it’s going to be fine.”

“And he knows about babies,” Liam adds, patting at Niall’s hand when they get there, dragging a couple of chairs over to sit down. 

“Your arse looks so smooth, Niall,” Louis looks at where Niall’s got his pants pulled down just under the curve of his bum, the transfer standing out dark on his pale skin. “Laura’s gonna want to keep Harry around as your groomer.”

“Shut up,” Niall groans, as Harry reemerges, pulling his hair up into one of his knots. Louis tries not to stare, suddenly aware of how much his memory of Harry doing that is tied into not their entire history, but of those few months when it’d be Harry, tying his hair back before getting on the floor to play with Freddie during his tummy time. Or Harry, gathering his hair up with a slow smile before sucking Louis off. 

Jesus bleeding Christ, Louis needs to slow down his drinking. 

“Okay,” Harry sits down, reaching for the gloves that Niall’s laid out and pulling them on, “I’m about to get up close and personal with you for a while, Nialler, so prepare yourself.”

“You just shaved my arse, Hazza, think I’m plenty prepared." Niall tenses noticeably though, when Harry turns on the gun. “You lot promise it’s not too bad, yeah?”

“You’ll be fine,” Liam’s actively stroking his hand across Niall’s fringe. “Arse probably isn’t even a bad place to get one, it’s not like a hand.”

“Yeah, how _was_ it, Louis?" Niall grits out, his voice going tight when Harry starts. “Oh, fuck.”

“Soz,” Harry says softly, his eyes flicking up for a second to meet Louis’s. It’s a small moment, and Louis reaches out with the hand that’s not tied up in Niall’s to grab his beer. 

“Niall, you’ll be fine,” Liam starts, with that tone to his voice like he’s about to tell some shit story, “I remember when I spent those couple weeks getting this arm done, yeah? And --”

Liam continues, and it’s not like it’s something Louis hasn’t heard before; it’s good background that fades out as Louis watches Harry work while Liam drones on. 

Harry pauses every so often to wipe away the excess ink, and Louis realizes he wasn’t paying attention before when he’d been shaving Niall’s arse -- for a good reason. Harry’s thumb looks huge as it smooths out over Niall’s skin, holding it still for him to guide the needle, and Louis tightens the grip on his bottle and Niall’s hand as he lets his mind wander. The time last summer when things were still early and good, when he’d gotten to Harry’s before Harry did and started to make him dinner with what Harry had on hand. It’d been simple enough, chicken and veg, but Harry’s eyes had lit up when he’d walked in. 

Louis still has the small scar on his arse from where he’d forgotten to turn off the hob before Harry’d stripped him off and shoved him against the counter. Louis had yelled loudly, but it wasn’t enough to stop Harry from dragging him off to the bedroom, grabbing a piece of ice on their way. It’d melted before Harry’d gotten it on his arse, but it was after -- Harry smoothing his fingers over Louis’s skin almost like he’s doing now, to Niall. That’s what Louis remembers. 

That scar is why Louis doesn’t want to have Harry tattoo his arse, not some bloody penguin he’d gotten while pissed. Harry bites at his lip, and Louis exhales loudly, hoping no one notices.

“Louis?" Liam’s asking, and Louis does his best not to keep thinking about...well, every fucking thing that’s currently going through his brain. 

“Hmm?" Louis takes another drink, setting his beer down and stretching out his fingers. They’d gotten cramped from how tightly he’s been gripping it. Fucking hell. 

“Niall was asking you how it looks, I can’t see very well from here and Niall won’t let go of my hand." Liam groans, Niall laughing. 

“You deserved that,” Niall sounds breathless. “This isn’t so bad, after all.”

“It looks good,” Louis keeps his voice even, trying not to zone out when he looks up to meet Harry’s eyes. 

“It looks better than good,” Harry glances back down, wiping at the tattoo again and biting his lip. “We’re not far off.”

“Thank bloody Christ." Niall turns his head, meeting Louis’s eyes. “Soz, Tommo, if I was squeezing your hand too hard.”

“Please, the worst part so far has been listening to Liam’s story for the millionth time." Louis rolls his eyes, Harry’s laugh and Liam’s indignant _Hey!_ ringing in his ears. 

He doesn’t watch Harry while he finishes the tattoo.

**

“I am not fucking hairy,” Liam argues, for what feels like the thousandth time, Harry’s head bent down over his arse. Louis closes his eyes for a moment, listing out every single way that Liam’s been there for him in the past year. 

“Yeah, that’s why it took me twice as long to shave your bloody arse as what it took Harry to do Niall’s,” Louis says, Harry laughing as he goes.

“Maybe you’re just more thorough." Liam folds his hands together, pressing his forehead down on them. “Hazza, you’re ace at this.”

“Chuffed you think so,” Harry says. “Niall, you okay?”

“This fucking burns, or something,” Niall moans from where he’s arse up on one of the sofas, “I can feel my heart beating in my bum.”

“Stop touching it,” they all say in unison, Harry laughing a moment later. 

“I was just --" Niall starts, then gets up gingerly, making his way over to get another drink. “Lads, I’m moving on to whiskey. To dull the pain.”

“Get me a shot for when I’m done.” Liam calls out. “Tommo, I’m good if you want to get another.”

“Don’t go too far,” Harry says slowly, “because you’re next.”

“D’you need me to shave you?" Liam asks, his voice muffled in his hands. Sometimes Louis wonders just what sort of band he’s actually in. 

“I’ll do it myself,” Louis mutters. “In fact, I’ll do it now.”

He escapes to the loo, new razor from the pack in hand. It’s for the best, probably -- Liam had already yelled at him once for trying to make him laugh and mess up Harry’s concentration when he’d yelled _don’t fart, Liam!_. Plus this way he can leave them to it, try and clear his head. 

Louis rinses the razor, setting it down on the counter before pulling off his shirt. It makes sense, for them to all get these where they’re less likely to be seen - millions of fans speculating over what it might mean. Even if these are about as straightforward as you can get.

He unbuttons his jeans and pushes them and his pants down just a bit, looking over his hip. It’ll be easy, he figures. Easier, at least, than having Harry tattoo his arse, a part of Louis’s body Harry’s very familiar with. 

Not that he’s unfamiliar with this, Louis thinks as he starts to shave, can almost imagine the finger shaped bruises that used to occupy the space there more often than not. But it’s different, somehow. His cock stirs a little bit as he drags the razor over his skin, and Louis contemplates having a quick wank, just to get it out of his system so he won’t embarrass himself in front of Harry. Although, he thinks as he rinses the razor and then his skin, wiping it dry with a flannel, that Harry will know if he does that too. Harry used to press his fingers into the flush on Louis’s skin after they’d have sex, mumbling fucked out nonsense questions about if he did that, if he made Louis look that way. 

Louis drops the razor against the counter, pressing the heel of his hand against his cock. He takes a deep breath. 

**

Louis is fine.

He’s fine through watching Harry finish up Liam’s ink and cover it carefully in cling film, he’s fine through all of them having a drink (“One is fine, Louis” Harry had said calmly when he gave him a look), he’s fine through convincing Liam to set the transfer design.

Harry tucks a clean flannel under the waist of Louis’s pants, his jeans undone as he lies flat on the table. Louis squirms a bit, trying to stay still when he feels Harry’s breath against his skin. 

“Alright,” Harry sounds shaky to Louis’s ears. “You ready?”

“Born ready,” Louis says lightly, raising his voice so Liam can hear him from where he’s across the room doing more shots with Niall. The two of them are already well on the way to pissed, and Louis needs Liam to man up and be a bloody buffer, “Oi! Payno, come over here.”

“You need a hand hold?" Liam’s eyes are bright, all crinkled up at the corners. “You?”

“Yeah, I do, so just come hold my bloody hand." Louis nearly loses it for a brief second, the uncertainty he’s feeling creeping into his voice. Harry glances in his direction, and Louis knows he’s been found out, but Harry just smiles, nodding.

“Niall, come look at this, you didn’t watch me do Liam." Harry adds, and it hits Louis fully, the realization that in a really fucked up way, he and Harry are in this together -- the two of them just trying their bloody best. 

Niall and Liam must realize it too even in their state, because they both scramble over and take their respective positions. Liam’s face looms into view over Louis, and Louis gives him his best withering look.

“Soz,” Liam says, “you ready?”

“Are you gonna do Harry’s, Liam?" Niall asks, and Louis cranes his neck to see him where he’s sat next to Harry, leaning on the table. 

“He’s far too pissed for needles,” Harry says, his fingers pressing lightly into Louis’s stomach; Louis tenses at the contact, grateful that Harry’s wearing gloves. Grateful that Liam’s idiot face is crowding his vision. 

“So who’s gonna do you, then?" Niall asks, his words thick like he gets when he’s round the bend.

“Louis,” Harry says, at the first press of the needle. Liam grips at Louis’s hand, and Louis grits his teeth. “He’s the one most sober for it.”

“I had a few beers,” Louis says immediately, blinking as Harry works. He doesn’t look at Harry, keeps his gaze on the ceiling, at Liam’s face in his peripheral vision. 

“You had two,” Harry says easily, his voice sounding far away as he works, the whole room shrunk down to the way he’s pressing the needle into Louis’s skin, “and you’ve had that third there for the last hour. You didn’t do any shots. You’re doing me.”

“Is that alright, Tommo?" Liam asks, his voice sounding like he’s never been more concerned. Louis squeezes his hand tight as fuck in retaliation. “Ow! What the hell?”

“Where are you gonna get it, Hazza?" Niall asks, and Louis fights the urge to watch Harry’s face as he answers, as he spreads out his hand across Louis’s stomach to hold him still. 

“Upper thigh, the right one." Harry says. Niall must be giving him a look because he laughs, “Don’t start, it’ll be high enough. Louis, is that okay?”

“Sure,” Louis grits out at one particularly stinging pass of the needle, “it’s fine.”

“Think he was close to your hipbone there, is all,” Liam says, his hand landing on Louis’s forehead. Louis would tell him to move it, that Liam’s palm is a little clammy where it’s touching his skin, but Harry’s rubbing his gloved thumb over the patch of hair just below Louis’s navel and he appreciates what Liam’s doing.

“Soz again, Lou,” Harry pauses in his work, his breath warm as it fans out over Louis’s skin. “We’re really almost done here.”

“It looks sick, Louis,” Niall touches the edge of it, the warmth of his fingertip making Louis nearly jolt out of position. 

“Niall, your hand’s not sanitized, off." Harry’s voice is sharp. “If Louis is infected for your wedding, then what would you do?”

“Cancel it,” Niall laughs. “Laura would understand.”

“Laura would divorce you, lad." Louis tries to subtly arch his back where it’s cricking up weird, willing himself not to get hard when Harry immediately pushes him back down with his hand. 

“She’ll divorce you anyway, once we’re back to it, all those days away." Liam laughs at his shit joke, the air in the room gone stale for a moment. “Nialler, that was...I wasn’t.”

“I know, Payno." Niall says, “Haz, get that look off your face.”

“Nothing on my face,” Harry mumbles. “Another minute, Lou. Then I’ll get myself prepared for you?”

“Sure,” Louis forces his voice to stay normal. “You know, once we are, you know...we should start again at Motorpoint, yeah? Give these tattoos a workout.”

Liam inhales sharply above him, squeezing at Louis’s hand, and Niall and Harry are quiet. Harry wipes at Louis’s skin, spraying him with alcohol.

“That’s a good idea, Lou,” Harry says. “Liam, Niall, can you two manage to bandage him up? I’m gonna go get things ready.”

Louis waits until he can hear the door click shut behind Harry to look up, take in Niall and Liam’s flushed faces.

“Just bandage me up,” Louis says, “then you two can get back to drinking. At least some of us should be pissed.”

They both nod.

**

It’s so much worse, being on this end. Or, better. Louis could handle not seeing Harry’s face as he tattooed him, focusing on other things instead. 

Niall and Liam, the fucking traitors, are already playing FIFA across the room, which at first Louis appreciated when it provided good background noise and distraction. Now, though. He doesn’t dare chance a look up at Harry’s face, the white of his teeth against the pink of his lip when he bites it. Louis knows all too well how getting inked makes Harry feel, how his eyes go dark and his face goes bright. 

It wasn’t until they’d first gotten together, when Louis had seen up close and personal how Harry looks when he’s turned on, that Louis put two and two together. Harry’d only gotten one tattoo while they were together, and Louis has wanked to the memory of that night more than he’d like to admit. 

“Alright?” Louis asks, and Harry lifts his head up, flashing Louis a grin and a thumbs up. He looks goofy, and it puts Louis at ease despite how the rest of the evening’s gone. 

That’s gone in the next moment when he guides the needle along the curve of Harry’s thigh, and it makes Harry kick out his other leg, half clad in his too tight jeans. Louis digs his fingers into Harry’s thigh to hold him still, and Louis exhales slowly to center himself when he realizes that Harry’s half hard, lying there in just his black pants. It’s not too noticeable, but to Louis it’s glaring. He wipes away the excess ink, nearly done, and chances a look back up at Harry, who’s staring at the ceiling, his fingers twitching slightly from their position on his chest. He wishes Harry had left his bloody shirt on.

“Soz, Lou,” Harry whispers, licking his lips and taking a deep breath, “it’s...you know.”

“It’s fine." Louis bites back the remark he’d be making if it was Liam or Niall, grateful suddenly that they’re across the room right now and arguing over some shit Louis can’t make sense of. “I get it, Hazza.”

Harry exhales. “It’s just the needle,” he says. He sounds like he’s trying to convince them both. Louis doesn’t allow himself to entertain any other reason.

“I know." Louis loosens his grip on Harry’s thigh, pats at it gently, “you like a bit of pain, we’ve all got our kinks.”

He regrets saying it, and he doesn’t. Harry laughs, and he slides his hand down his chest slowly to rest just above where his cock is still straining the fabric a bit. His fingers toy with his waistband there, and Louis concentrates on the smooth skin of his thigh, in contrast to the fine dusting of hair over the other one.

“You’ve got a few yourself,” Harry agrees, laughing again, his hand traveling across to the side where Louis is working. His hand moves back up before Louis can think about it too hard, and when he glances up over the last number, a four, Harry’s propped himself up on his elbows, grinning down at Louis. He waits, winking when Louis matches his gaze. “I know all your tells, Tomlinson.”

“I’m not the one who’s…." Louis trails off, aware of Liam and Niall behind them, of the dangerous road he and Harry are going down. Fuck. 

“Who’s what?" Harry asks gently, a soft look on his face. He’s flushed, and he’d taken his hair out of its knot before he laid down, curled up in the damp summer air. 

“Who’s almost done,” Louis decides after a moment of looking at him. “Lie still, so I can finish you up.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees. He smiles again. “Thanks, Louis.”

“Don’t mention it,” Louis forces his hand to stay steady as he finishes.

**

“Laura’s like, aware, of how it goes on tour,” Niall’s so pissed he looks cross eyed to Louis. They’d given up on FIFA ages ago, just hanging about and bantering, and Louis quickly discovered there was no possible way for he and Harry to catch up to Niall. 

“She’s quite busy with her own stuff, can she not visit?" Liam is actually pouting now. They hadn’t really gotten much into talking about really getting back to it -- not when Niall is nearly unconscious, but it keeps slipping into the conversation here and there, fitting into the silences.

“Don’t know if I’d want her to, for very long." Niall makes a face when they all make surprised noises. “No, not because of that, you giant cunts, I just know it wouldn’t be her thing. I think we gotta like, plan things better.”

“You mean, now that we can actually think about planning it?" Louis points out, Liam and Niall both nodding like their lives depend on it. 

“There’s no way we’ll be able to sort out an album,” Harry holds out his glass, nodding at Louis until he tops him off. “I’ve got like, five notebooks’ worth and even more demos that I think would be good.”

“Think we all have a lot." Louis avoids Liam’s eyes when he tries to catch Louis’s attention, shaking his head slightly. Liam, blessedly, takes the hint. 

“Ah, we’ll sort it eventually when the time comes." Niall closes his eyes, speaking slowly, “This has been good, lads, even though my arse is on fire.”

“That’s far too easy, Niall,” Louis snorts. It has been, though. For a lot of reasons. 

“You don’t know what Laura and I get up to,” Niall starts laughing.

“Oh God, I’d repressed that conversation from my memory." Harry groans, hiding his face in his hands. Liam starts laughing hard, clapping delightedly. 

“Can’t believe it, lads. I’m gonna be married in three days." Niall’s nearly out, Louis can tell, his voice going quieter and quieter. “If that’s all we got out of this break, I’ll take it. Wouldn’t have happened otherwise. Isn’t that fucked up?”

“A lot of sick things wouldn’t have happened,” Liam pauses, chugging the rest of his drink, “think about it.”

“It’s been good,” Harry shrugs, “but we don’t have to rush.”

“I wasn’t talking about setting any dates,” Niall fades out further, “Liam was.”

“Liam was _not_ ,” Liam says. 

“Think we need to get that one back to his room,” Louis nods at Niall. “Oi, Nialler, can you even get up?”

“Fuck you, of course I can,” Niall says, without moving. 

“Maybe I can,” Liam stands up, looking down at his phone, “it’s half two, probably for the best we call it a night.”

It’s comical, watching Liam pull Niall to his feet, then bodily lift him. 

“You feel lighter,” Liam says to Niall, patting his bum. “Did you lose weight?”

“You gained muscle,” Niall slurs, waving his hand at Louis and Harry over Liam’s shoulder. “Lads, you coming?”

Louis looks around at the carnage. It’s not too bad, some bottles strewn about. The tattoo stuff needs to be put away as well. He looks over at Niall again, laughing as he hangs over Liam’s arms.

“You go,” Louis says, “I’m not as gone as you two, I can clean up.”

“I’ll help,” Harry offers, and Louis nods. It’s nice, actually, that they’ve gotten to the place where they can do that. It’s been sick, just hanging around the four of them, and it shouldn’t matter if he and Harry are left alone. 

“Alright,” Liam nods. “C’mon then, give us a hug." 

He swings around, Niall going with him as Harry laughs, wrapping his arms around them both. 

“C’mon, Tommo!" Niall yells, and Louis rolls his eyes as he goes along with it, slotting in for the weirdest group hug they’ve ever had. Niall kicks him in the ribs, and Louis groans.

“Alright,” Louis steps away, laughing, “you two get out of here.”

“Love you lads,” Niall yells, the door swinging shut behind them both. Louis can hear them yelling things outside even with it closed. 

“He’s lost the plot,” Louis says, Harry laughing from where he’s already gathering up their glasses. 

“I can’t believe he willingly got inked." Harry runs his hand through his hair as he leans over, picking up an empty bottle. 

“I can’t believe he let you do it,” Louis rearranges the supplies on the tattoo tray. “Oi, where’s the gun?”

“In the loo, I cleaned it up after you were done with me." Harry shrugs, refolding a blanket that’d fallen on the floor. “And please, I can’t believe I let you do me.”

“You didn’t seem to mind,” Louis says without thinking, ducking into the bathroom immediately after. It’s pretty clean in there, considering, Harry has everything laid out on a flannel on the counter. He puts it all away in the case, hearing Harry sing to himself in the other room. 

Once he’s done, Louis chances a look in the mirror. He looks mostly normal, he thinks. Lifting up his shirt, he tries to get a look at his tattoo through the cling film. It’s sensitive, when he presses his fingers around it. 

“Louis?” Harry calls out from the other room, and Louis drops his shirt back down, wandering back out the door.

“Yeah, Haz?" Louis looks around, at how Harry’s somehow got it looking even better than when they’d gotten there. “You work fast.”

Harry grins. “You work slow,” he says, laughing. “You were in there a while, are you okay?”

“Just putting everything away,” Louis shrugs, Harry raising his eyebrows. “Alright, I was trying to look at your work,” he admits.

“And what’s the verdict?" Harry asks, walking toward Louis. He leans forward and Louis tenses, relaxing when Harry flips off the light switch on the wall behind him, the room going darker. 

“You didn’t fuck it up,” Louis counters, tilting his head back to meet Harry’s eyes. “So that’s a plus.”

“Ha ha,” Harry says, his voice dry. “Didn’t look at mine yet. Bet you did it crooked.”

He holds open the door, Louis following him outside. “Bet you’re...crooked,” Louis’s embarrassed at how bloody lame he sounds, surprised at how cool the nighttime air is, how damp it feels. “Is it raining?”

“It feels like,” Harry turns his face up to the moonlight when they get out of the shadows of the cottage, “like a mist.”

“It’s not too bad,” Louis shuffles his feet as they make their way back to the castle, everything feeling quiet and still. “What do you think?”

“Of the weather?" Harry laughs. It feels like it echoes through the grounds. “It’s lovely, Louis. Real lovely. Misty memories.”

“Shut the fuck up," Louis turns his head, taking in Harry’s profile. “Just asking a bloody question. Also, I’m more pissed than I thought.”

“Isn’t it weird,” Harry’s got that meandering tone to his voice, like he might never finish a bloody sentence, “that feeling like you’re doing fine, sober enough, and then you stand up and it’s all a wash?”

“Pissed by surprise." Louis waits for Harry to laugh, then he does. A drop of rain hits him square on the nose, and he startles a bit. “Oh, fuck.”

“You felt that too?" Harry holds his hand out in front of them, turning it slowly until it’s palm up. “Yep, it’s raining properly now.”

“Thanks for the weather report, Hazza." Louis pushes his fringe out of his eyes, already feeling how damp they’ve gotten as the rain falls faster. 

“No problem,” Harry says easily as they walk, the castle just up ahead. He says something else, so quiet that Louis can’t quite make it out over the sound of the rain.

“What was that?" Louis asks, turning his head to look at Harry, his shirt already wet through and plastered to his chest.

Harry meets his eyes. “I’ve missed this,” he says, his eyes going wide like he can’t believe he said it out loud. Louis certainly can’t. 

“This, like…” Louis stumbles a bit, Harry reaching out immediately to steady Louis with his hand. They stop entirely. Harry watching Louis with wide eyes, his hand still on Louis’s arm. It’s raining harder now, Louis blinking against how it’s falling in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to say it, it’s…” Harry shrugs, his hair wet and falling in his face, “I’ve missed you, Louis. Our friendship. And…”

“And?" Louis asks, looking down at Harry’s hand on his arm, then back at Harry’s face.

“Other things,” Harry’s hand moves then, traveling up Louis’s arm until he’s cupping his jaw, his thumb stroking over Louis’s cheekbone. “You.”

“You already said me,” Louis mumbles, unsure what else he was gonna say before Harry’s dipping his head down, brushing his lips against Louis’s softly, like he’s not sure what will happen. Louis bites Harry’s lip, unable to help himself, and Harry pulls back, laughing softly. 

“I can go,” Harry says, tapping his thumb against Louis’s cheek, “and you can go.”

“You can come to mine,” Louis reaches out finally, palming Harry’s hip before reaching down to press his finger into where he’d tattooed Harry earlier. Harry gasps, his breath rushing out against Louis’s lips. “We can dry off.”

“I --” Harry swallows, speaking against Louis’s lips, “yeah, that’s a good idea.”

It isn’t, but Louis pulls Harry in to kiss him again anyway. 

**

It’s a bloody miracle that they manage to make it back up to Louis’s room without anyone seeing. Even more of a miracle that Louis doesn’t change his mind, Harry very carefully not touching him the whole way. Not even a touch to his hand. It doesn’t change the fact that whenever Louis meets his eyes as they stumble up the staircase Harry’s are dark, darker than they ever were when Louis was dragging the needle across his skin earlier.

Harry’s standing in the middle of Louis’s room when he closes the door behind them, breathing hard even though Louis hasn’t touched him yet. His hair is dripping wet, his shirt and jeans clinging to him. Louis knows he looks the same, feels even more drunk than before when he peels off his vest, stepping toward Harry as he does.

“Do you know,” Harry closes his eyes briefly before he continues, his stare intense, “what you’ve been doing to me all bloody night?”

“No, what?" Louis keeps his tone sharp to betray just how badly he’s decided he wants this. He doesn’t give a fuck anymore, feels like they have to get this out of their systems. 

Harry takes a shaky breath, his eyes following Louis’s movements as Louis reaches for his jeans, unbuttoning them slowly. Harry unbuttons and shrugs out of his own shirt, it falling on the floor with a wet sound. 

“Wait,” Harry sounds strangled, “don’t, not yet.”

“Not yet what?" Louis presses his palm into his stomach to steady himself, tracking the way a drop of water slides down over Harry’s chest. 

“I want to --” Harry steps forward, crowding up into Louis’s space suddenly. “I want to do it.”

“Then do it,” Louis challenges, the rest of what he’s about to say lost when Harry licks his way into Louis’s mouth. It’s slow and intense, just how Harry always starts off a snog, the taste of whiskey still clinging to his tongue as he maneuvers them across the room, Louis surprised when the back of his thighs hit the bed. 

“Down,” Harry breathes out against his lips, pushing Louis back so he hits the bed with a bounce, his legs sprawled out over the edge as he lands. Harry kneels down next to the bed, his eyes meeting Louis’s when Louis props himself up, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. It gives him away, unable to calm himself as Harry pinches his nipples first, one hand staying to play with one while the other travels downward, stopping to rest lightly above where Louis’s got the cling film.

“Did this get wet?" Harry asks, his finger tracing along the edge of the bandage. Louis bites his lip when Harry presses down. 

“Think it’s okay,” Louis grits out, exhaling loudly when Harry’s hand travels lower, scratching his fingernails along the waistband of Louis’s wet jeans before he pushes at the open flies, his palm just resting on Louis’s cock. “Jesus, Harry, do _something_." 

“Wanna take my time,” Harry slurs, his voice giving away how pissed he still is, “been a long time, Louis.”

“With me?" Louis can’t help but ask, the words tripping out when Harry starts to ease the tight, wet material down over his hips. 

“With anyone,” Harry says quietly, disappearing for a moment while he tugs Louis’s jeans off his legs fully as they dangle over the edge of the bed. 

“Fuck." Louis says, falling back and staring at the ceiling. “Fuck,” he says again.

Harry laughs, reappearing. “You’ll be alright, Lou,” he murmurs, turning his head to press his lips to the inside of Louis’s knee. 

“Should take off yours, too,” Louis finds it in himself to roll his eyes when Harry’s grin gets wide, his chin resting on Louis’s thigh. “For your ink, Haz.”

“Sure." Harry laughs. “How thoughtful of you, Louis.”

“I’m always fucking thoughtful,” Louis says, his words dying in his throat when Harry stands, steadying himself on Louis’s knees before he pops the button on his jeans and takes them off, practically rolling them down his hips. The edge of the cling film starts to peel away, and Louis sits up, smoothing it back with his fingernail. 

Harry falls forward, bracing himself on the bed so he’s balanced over Louis, awkwardly kicking the rest of the way out of his jeans. “Fuck you, Louis. That’s unfucking fair.”

Louis shrugs, doing it again. He lets his other hand wander down Harry’s chest to where he’s half hard again, pushing out the damp fabric of his pants. 

“Is this unfair?" Louis laughs when Harry makes a strangled noise, his weight pinning Louis down for a second when his arm gives out. 

“Off,” Harry’s voice sounds completely foreign when he sits up, scooting back over Louis’s thighs and curling his hands into Louis’s pants, yanking them down in one swift movement. Harry in bed is just like Harry in life; there are times when you’re not sure he’s going to find his way uninjured, but more often than not he surprises you when how coordinated he can be. 

Louis’s cock slaps up against his stomach with the motion, getting fully hard just from how tightly Harry’s gripping his thigh. He moans unexpectedly when Harry stands back, pushing down his own pants before he’s back on Louis again, the sudden slide of their cocks together taking Louis by surprise. 

“Oh shit,” Louis says, tangling his hand in Harry’s wet curls, “oh shit.”

“Shhh,” Harry’s mouth finds his, and he snogs him slowly, rolling them so they’re both on their sides. It’s less pressure on their cocks this way, but Louis still feels like he’s going out of his mind anyway just with how intensely Harry’s kissing him, pulling back every few minutes to nip at his jaw or his ear, lick along the seam of his lips, his hands moving all over Louis’s skin as he does. 

Harry’s big hand palms at his arse, and Louis bites at Harry’s lip, hard. God, he’s missed that, how Harry’s hand is big enough to cover nearly an entire arse cheek. He pushes forward, moaning into Harry’s mouth when he feels the slick glide of their cocks together. 

“Fuck, c’mere Lou,” Harry rolls them again so he’s on his back, Louis tangled on top of him. Harry’s hand lands on his arse again, kissing him deeply as his fingers find the scar, immediately. He traces it softly for a moment, Louis taking the opportunity of Harry being distracted to bite Harry’s lip harder. 

The sting of Harry’s hand landing on his arse, directly on the scar, hits Louis nearly a full second after the sound of the slap ringing out stark in the quiet of the room. It’s like the walls echo with it, and Louis stops breathing for a moment. 

“Soz,” Harry whispers, before he spanks Louis again, hard enough this time to move Louis up further on Harry’s body, leaving a wet trail along Harry’s stomach. 

“Fucking hell,” Louis buries his head in the crook of Harry’s neck, turning it to bite his shoulder. “You --”

“Want me to stop?" Harry asks gently, his fingers massaging the skin of Louis’s arse gently. “I’ll stop.”

“No,” Louis doesn’t. He pushes himself up so he’s braced over Harry, leaning down to brush his lips over where he’d bit him. He shifts so all his weight is balanced on one arm, rubbing his thumb over the spot. “Will it show?" 

“Don’t know,” Harry licks at his lip, his tongue flickering against Louis’s finger, “don’t really care.”

“That’s a good lad,” Louis starts to say, surprised when Harry sits up and out from under Louis, his warm hands firm on Louis’s hips as he pulls him back so he’s on his hands and knees. 

“This okay?" Harry runs his hand down the length of Louis’s back, Louis arching into the touch. He punctuates it with another slap of his arse, and Louis hangs his head down, dropping down on his elbows. He knows it puts his arse more on display, just like he meant it to, and Harry’s sharp inhale makes him grin into his arm. Louis feels giddy with it.

“God, Haz, it’s always okay, stop worrying." Louis groans at another spark of Harry’s hand connecting with his skin, nearly losing it completely when Harry’s tongue replaces his hand. 

“You still have the scar,” Harry breathes out, his tongue tracing there while he pulls Louis’s cheeks apart, the cool air of the room hitting Louis. 

“I think I’ll always have it,” Louis says, feeling like he’s going insane. “C’mon, Harry, I’m going mad here.”

“Maybe I want you to." Harry says, the warmth of his tongue against Louis’s hole a moment later. He blows out over Louis’s wet skin afterward, “maybe you should.”

Louis secretly loves when Harry gets this way, when he gets to a point that he’s driving Louis so insane Louis can’t even banter back, when Harry can’t stop running his mouth and saying wild things he’d never say otherwise. He wonders if he’s like this with everyone he’s ever shagged, or if it just comes out of them, how they are. 

He knows he’s never shagged anyone the way he does Harry, never gotten to a nonverbal point where it’s all he can to do hang on. 

“Yeah,” Louis manages when Harry starts licking him out in earnest, in the way that only Harry ever has -- like he’s fully snogging his arse, using his hands to tilt Louis back into his face. He shuffles up behind Louis, pushing Louis’s knees out further to spread him until Harry makes a satisfied noise.

“Forgot about this, your fucking arse,” Harry pulls back, spanking Louis one more time before he moves back in, his tongue tracing circles around his hole before dipping in, one of his fingers joining it this time. Louis can feel Harry’s spit trickle down wet over his balls, and he drops down on his arms even more, wants to get a hand on himself. He can feel himself leaking so much it’s dripping down onto the bed, he’s sure. 

“Haz,” Louis gasps out when Harry eases his finger in fully alongside his tongue, crooking it slightly, “c’mon.”

“Don’t,” Harry pulls back, still pumping his finger as he wraps his arm around Louis’s middle, trapping his leaking cock and pulling him back closer to Harry’s face. “I’ve got you, Louis. Just trust me, yeah? I’ve got you.”

“Yeah, fuck." Louis shakily raises himself up on his arms again, gripping the duvet in his fists to try and contain himself as Harry grips at his cock, circling his thumb around the head and easing back Louis’s foreskin. “You’ve got me.”

“Gagging for it, I can’t stop,” Harry says soft before he’s back at it, licking around his finger and keeping up a steady rhythm on Louis’s cock. Louis was close before but he’s even closer now, and when Harry’s wrist bumps against his fresh tattoo Louis can’t help the noise he makes, his arse clenching around Harry’s finger and tongue. 

“Close,” Louis gasps out, “your arm, my ink…”

“This is one of the things I couldn’t say,” Harry pulls back, and Louis knows he’s purposefully angling his arm to hit Louis’s tattoo on every stroke. “That I missed. It’s part of you, yeah? All of it. How you get. I don’t know anyone like you, fuck. Louis, love.”

“Yeah," Louis nods, rocking back into Harry’s finger, thrusts down into Harry’s hand. Harry leans down, presses his lips in a soft kiss over the curve of Louis’s bum. In contrast, it shouldn’t make a difference, but it does, Louis moaning helplessly.

“Are you going to come?" Harry asks softly into his skin, and the way it’s so polite and _Harry_ and there are tears gathering at the corners of Louis’s eyes from a lot of bloody things and he comes suddenly; shaking as he spurts over Harry’s fingers, the throb of his tattoo against Harry’s arm feeling like it’s the same rhythm of his orgasm.

“Harry, fucking hell,” Louis tries to calm himself, wiping his face against the pillow so Harry won’t see when he eases his finger out of Louis as Louis rolls over on his side. It’s too much, how Harry’s sitting back on his heels, his mouth red and swollen in the dim moonlight from the window and his hair curling madly about his head. He’s holding his hand palm up, and Louis can see his own come on Harry’s fingers. 

“Lou, you okay? That was…" Harry laughs, sounding breathless. He looks down at his own hand, slowly raising it to his lips. Louis can’t help but watch, helpless as Harry licks his fingers with his eyes closed. 

“You’re killing me,” Louis groans, “I haven’t come that hard in I don’t know how fucking long.”

“I want to kiss you,” Harry whispers, his hand reaching down to wrap around his cock, hard and glistening at the tip. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Louis tries to will himself out of how he feels boneless, raising up to meet Harry halfway, licking the bitter taste out of Harry’s mouth until Harry’s groaning, the slick sounds of his own hand on his cock filling the room. 

“Hey,” Louis says, reaching for Harry’s wrist, “c’mon love, let me.”

“Fuck,” Harry falls on his back easily when Louis pushes at his shoulders, kissing Harry once more before he slides backward, reaching for Harry’s cock. Harry’s already breathing hard like he’s just finished one of his boxing sessions, and Louis smiles to himself as he arranges himself, trying to get comfortable with his sensitive cock, already twitching with how bloody hot Harry looks, and the slight burn of his arse. He feels like he’s still in aftershocks, the shaky pins and needles that come after an amazing shag.

“Did you miss this?" Louis can’t help but ask, right before he licks out around the head of Harry’s cock, taking him in shallowly at first. It’s weird muscle memory, like, the way his mouth remembers what it was like to have the weight of Harry’s cock on his tongue. 

“Always,” Harry promises, and Louis knows that Harry would say such sincere fucking shit even if Louis wasn’t sucking him off, taking him a little deeper as he gets used to the slight ache in his jaw. 

“Can grab my hair,” Louis pulls off to say, punctuating it with a press of his hand into Harry’s thigh, just above his fresh tattoo. “I know you want to.”

“Louis,” Harry breathes out, his eyes too bloody much when he tangles his hand gently in Louis’s fringe, pushing it back. “Get to it,” he adds, his grin turning wicked when he pinches his nipple with this other hand. 

“Fuck you,” Louis can hear already how his voice has gone rough, readjusting so that when Harry thrusts up slightly he’s ready for it. He moans, drooling a bit to slick the way as Harry starts to fuck his mouth, his grip tightening in Louis’s hair as he starts up a string of nonsense.

“Wish I could snog you at the same time you’re doing that,” is what Louis can finally make sense of, and it makes his chest hurt with how much he knows Harry bloody means it. He can go from spanking Louis to this, all in one night. Louis blinks again, sure that the relentless pace of Harry fucking his mouth is what’s got the wet gathering in the corner of his eyes again, the intensity of it.

Louis pushes at Harry’s thigh again, lower this time, and moves back to anticipate how Harry’s hips snap up, Harry making a broken sounding noise. He tugs at Louis’s hair, and Louis pulls back just enough so he won’t choke when Harry comes, flooding Louis’s mouth as he tries to swallow it all. 

“Louis,” Harry whispers, loosening his hand when Louis turns to wipe his mouth on Harry’s hip. 

“Harry,” Louis manages to whisper back, grinning when Harry rolls his eyes as Louis settles next to him. It’s odd, how Louis feels now. Both comfortable and on edge all at once. Like anything could happen.

Harry turns, pressing his lips to Louis’s shoulder, then his neck. He squeezes at Louis’s hip, exhaling against his skin. 

“I should go?" Harry says after a few quiet moments, and Louis can’t tell if he’s asking a question or not. He’s not sure what the answer is, anyway.

“If you want?" Louis can match Harry always, stupid bloody question to stupid bloody question. He’s tired, suddenly. Wants Harry to stay. Wants Harry to leave. 

“Niall’s got a lot on tomorrow, I just don’t know if I should…” Harry trails off, rolling away. “Soz, I can’t decide when I’m touching you.”

It’s fucked, how much that makes Louis feel less shit. 

“Then go,” Louis turns his head, taking in Harry’s profile as he stares at the ceiling, “it’s Niall’s week, not….”

“Yeah. I know." Harry nods. He sits up, looking down at Louis with his hair falling in his face, this wild mess of curls. “You should get some sleep.”

“Oh should I now." Louis isn’t expecting it when Harry presses a fingertip to his chest, although he should. 

“You’re so flushed." Harry bites at his lip, sliding his finger across Louis’s chest and pressing in again.

“As per." Louis swallows. “Go, Haz. It’s okay.”

“Going,” Harry says softly as he drops his hand, the bed shifting as he gets up, every move he makes loud in the quiet of the room. Louis closes his eyes, listening to Harry get dressed. 

Harry doesn’t say anything when he leaves. 

**

When Louis wakes up, for a split second he thinks that someone’s calling for him, like all of it - the tattoos, hooking up with Harry, Harry leaving, was part of some mental dream and now someone’s trying to pull him back out of it. He stretches, feeling the ache of being in positions he’s not used to, and tries to roll over until he realizes that someone _is_ calling his name.

“Tommo!" Liam’s calling out, knocking in a fast rhythm. “You’re not answering your phone, are you alive?”

“FUCK OFF!" Louis yells, the knocking ceasing for a moment, then starting up again.

“Now that you’re alive,” Liam’s calling out in a much more reasonable tone now, “please open your bloody door.”

“Fine." Louis groans, looking around the room. He doesn’t think it looks like someone’s fucked around, but he’s not entirely awake to really do a full assessment. When he sits up, Louis is surprised and somewhat pleased that his head barely hurts; at least there’s some upside to all of this.

He grabs a clean pair of pants from his case on his way to the door, kicking his clothes from the night before into a corner. They still feel damp, when they touch his foot. 

“There you are,” Liam says when Louis opens the door, Liam making a face. “Your hair…”

“It was raining when we walked back,” Louis reaches up, feeling how his hair’s standing up all over. “Guess it dried weird.”

“Interesting,” Liam says lightly as he follows Louis into the room, “okay, something happened.”

“Don’t know what you’re on about, Payno." Louis crawls back into bed, making a face at the duvet when he goes to pull it over his head. “Oh.”

“So, um," Liam steps carefully around the bed, lowering himself onto the chair by the window. “How did last night go for you?”

“Fuck, I --" Louis rubs at his face, fighting back a yawn. “Something happened. With Harry.”

“You don’t say." Liam clears his throat. “Please spare me the details, but….”

“We hooked up, I don’t know,” Louis lets the memories of the night before come back to him in fragments, “it just happened, like, all night, it was just --”

“Use your words, Tommo." Liam has that sympathetic look he gets when they talk about Harry. It makes Louis realize just how fucked he might be. “Are you going to be alright? How did you leave it?”

“He left after,” Louis licks his lips, remembering how quiet Harry was. “We didn’t really talk about it? It’s Niall’s week, Liam.”

“Fair enough, but,” Liam sighs, looking out the window. “I’ll shut the fuck up.”

“But what?" Louis gives up, lying back down and carefully pulling the duvet over himself. “C’mon, don’t hold back now.”

“How are you doing, really?" Liam’s staring at him, and Louis reaches to put another pillow under his head. 

“I’m fine, it’s just -- me and Harry, we’ve been doing really well, I think this just was an extension of that." Louis says it out in a rush, not meeting Liam’s eyes.

“Sure, buddy." Liam says carefully, “sure you were.”

“Oh, fuck off, we were,” Louis finds that he really believes it. He’d thought the week was going to go so differently.

“You do realize just how much you two have been a minefield this week, right?" Liam smiles, shaking his head sadly. “I know it’s better, but it’s been nearly a year, Louis, I don’t think --”

He stops, looking out the window again as he rubs his face. 

“But we were getting better,” Louis argues, “last night was --”

“Last night was great, we all got along like old times, but it still ended how it did, with you two." Liam says slowly, “and, to be honest, I’m not that shocked it did end that way, how things were going. I’m not blind.”

“It doesn’t have to be a shit thing, Liam." Louis rolls his eyes when Liam laughs. “It doesn’t, I’ll talk to Harry and it’ll be fine.”

His voice is shaky, and Louis knows he’s trying to convince himself just as much as Liam. What a beautiful bloody morning. 

“You being alright comes first, okay Tommo? And Harry." Liam shakes his head. “Niall and I have talked over the last year, you know? How it’s what’s best for you two first. If the band doesn’t happen again, it doesn’t happen.”

“It’ll be fine,” Louis says again, opening his hand against the sheet and stretching out his fingers. “Whatever happens.”

“Do you want to be with him again? Proper together?" Liam asks suddenly, his voice hitting Louis oddly. 

“I don’t know,” Louis hears himself say, trying to make his brain catch up with his mouth, “it’s too complicated, just because we’re ace at a shag doesn’t mean we’re ace at the rest. That’s what got us here in the first place.”

“I know." Liam gets up, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. He pats at Louis’s hand, and Louis knows just how much Liam does love him to do so. “And I know with Freddie it’s even more mucked up.”

“It is." Louis exhales. He feels like a real twat for not even thinking that far yet. “And I don’t know what Harry wants, either. I can’t just decide something and inform him.”

“You could,” Liam laughs, “but it’d make you a real shit.”

“You tell me that’s what I am all the time, Liam." Louis rolls over on his back, exhaling toward the ceiling. “I am proper fucked, aren’t I?”

“I said no details,” Liam jokes, and Louis flips him off, something stirring in his stomach. 

“I really don’t know what I want, Liam." Louis admits, and there’s something about saying it out loud that makes it extra bloody terrifying. 

“Well,” Liam squeezes his hand, “guess you’ll have to sort it out then.”

“Helpful." Louis remarks, blinking hard. He’ll just see where the rest of the week takes him. 

**

A shower and Liam bringing him breakfast to his room later, Louis feels a little more ready to face the day. And face Harry. 

Harry had texted him too, buried in between all of Liam’s. _Niall’s worse for the wear and he’s recovering at mine if you want to stop by? Xx_

Louis manages to make his way to Harry’s room after an hour of psyching himself up for it. He has a FaceTime scheduled with Briana to talk to Freddie, but it’s not until later in the afternoon and he knows he can’t cut it close tied up with Harry. It’s only a few hallways over, but it feels like it takes him fucking forever to walk there. 

Harry answers right away, barefoot in some absurd matching shirt and shorts. 

“You look ridiculous,” Louis says before he can stop himself, and Harry’s eyes go wide, his mouth falling open. 

“This is _Gucci_ , and it is fucking comfortable,” Harry laughs, though. “Come on in, Louis.”

“How’s Nialler?" Louis can hear Harry’s shower going when he steps in the room, steam escaping from under the doorway. 

“I finally got him to shower,” Harry rolls his eyes, “I told Laura I’d make him presentable for when Maura and Chris get here later.”

“Niall’s not usually one to suffer for this long,” Louis takes a deep breath when he makes his way into Harry’s room. It smells like him, the cologne he uses but something else, something so Harry that Louis feels on edge all over again. 

“He’s under stress,” Harry grins, shrugging before he folds himself into some complicated knot on one of the sofas. “Also he was so far passed pissed last night, I know you remember that, at least.”

Harry looks up at Louis, his smile wavering a little as he finishes his sentence. Louis knows what Harry’s doing; he knows that Harry’s giving him an out if he wants. That Louis could say he barely remembers a thing and then that would be that. But he can’t. He can’t do that to himself. He can’t do that to Harry.

“I remember more than that,” Louis sits down on the chair across from Harry. “I remember a lot more than that.”

“Oh?" Harry clears his throat, running his hands through his hair. Louis watches, the comforting habit of Harry pushing it all forward before teasing it back, playing with the ends. 

“Yeah,” Louis meets Harry’s eyes, feeling far braver than he had when he was talking to Liam. “Do you?”

Harry looks at him, working his mouth like he’s deciding what to say. “I do,” he nods.

“I don’t know --” Louis starts, stopping when Harry starts to speak. “No, go ahead.”

“I…" Harry takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I don’t regret it, maybe timing wise, but…”

“I would never regret your mouth on me like that,” Louis shrugs, Harry’s lips quirking up at the corner, “no matter the consequences.”

“It was some pretty awful fucking timing,” Louis adds, Harry laughing as he nods in agreement. “But I guess we’ve never been ace at that.”

“What I can’t work out,” Harry says slowly, “is if it was a goodbye, like? Like we never had, in a way. Or…”

“Yeah,” Louis snorts, “the or is what’s tripping me up, too." 

“We’re being very reasonable about this right now,” Harry laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“We’re adults now, Harold." Louis crosses his arms over his chest. “We’re just being mature about it.”

“You being mature is what’s making me uncomfortable,” Harry’s still laughing. 

“Oh, really fucking funny,” Louis checks himself to see if he feels irritated; the mental thing is, he’s not. 

“We’ll have to like, talk." Harry sounds like he’s not entirely sure of what he’s saying. “About things. Not muddle it further with our cocks.”

“Shit, I was really hoping we could muddle our cocks." Louis rolls his eyes. “I can resist you, Harry.”

“Can you?" Harry raises his eyebrows, swinging his legs down and spreading them out, sliding down in the chair a little bit. He rubs the flat of his hand over his thigh, and Louis follows the movement. Thank Christ Harry’s wearing what looks like fancy pyjamas.

“I can, speaking for myself. Dunno if you want me to leave so you can have a big wank?" Louis grins when Harry rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t know where to start --" Harry starts, Louis leaning forward to interrupt him.

“With your hand, I think?" Louis laughs, Harry continuing with a stubborn look on his face.

“--with us talking about this." Harry finishes his sentence, fixing Louis with a challenging look. “It’s been almost a year, Louis.”

“Like I don’t know?" Louis looks away, Harry waiting for him quietly. “Fuck, it’s --”

Niall emerges from the bathroom suddenly in a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“You’re right, that helped Harry. Oh hey, Louis." Niall shakes his head like he’s Mick, spraying them both with droplets of water. 

“You gonna make it, Niall?" Louis asks, wiping at his face. 

“Oh, I’m fucking amazing,” Niall laughs, “thanks to this one." He flicks the back of Harry’s head as he passes behind him, and Harry ducks, laughing and flipping Niall off.

“On Mick duty, on Niall duty,” Harry holds up his fingers as he lists them off. “Is Laura going to need me to move in, make her job easier?”

“She’d love it!" Niall calls out from where he’s made his way over into the bedroom, coming back a moment later in some joggers. “I think Maura won’t be able to tell I lost it last night.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine." Harry grins at Niall, then at Louis. “Do you still think you’ll need me as your dinner buffer?”

“Nah, unless you want?" Niall stretches, his neck cracking. “Actually, you can. Mum’ll want to see you, anyway.”

“Posh dinner for Harry,” Harry singsongs, glancing over at Louis. “Soz, Louis.”

“I think I’ll survive, there’s how many places to eat here?" Louis pretends to think. “Oh right, one billion.”

“I think you’re missing one,” Harry says, flinching when Niall punches his shoulder. “Ow, be nice Niall.”

“I’m always nice." Niall glances between them, and Louis realizes that he knows. “You two having a nice chat?”

“We were,” Harry meets Louis’s eyes. “Right, Lou?”

“Very nice,” Louis nods. “Very adult.”

“Well, that definitely sounds like a lie,” Niall looks at them both. “Okay, you two can wipe those looks off your faces, this is my week.”

“Believe me Niall,” Harry rolls his eyes at Louis, “we know.”

**

Louis is walking back to his room from dinner with James and Julia when he realizes it’s been the first time he’s had the chance to really think about things all day. That aspect of the week really has ended up working in his favor, actually -- especially now that they’re so close most people have shown up. It’s good, to catch up. To distract himself. Even though James had been shooting him odd looks all evening; asking him if he was doing alright at the end when Louis had begged off, swerving at the last second from a lie about calling to speak to Freddie. He knows James would see through that, and he can’t quite stomach it anyway. Can’t use Freddie as an excuse from his own mess.

It’s odd, to be in this position again. He hadn’t really expected it, if he’s being honest. If anything, he would have thought they’d be polite and somehow manage to stomach moving forward for Liam and Niall. Not that Louis would be driven to distraction by the memory of Harry’s mouth on his, the sharp bite of his palm hitting his arse. 

He overshoots his room by about five doors. It startles him so much that he has to stop for a moment, gathering himself properly. It was a late dinner but it’s still only just ten, and Louis can’t quite stomach going to his room for the rest of the night. He knows Harry was probably going to be tied up with Niall and his parents all evening, and Liam had some sort of vague plans with Jade since he’s still apparently up to the smoke and mirrors bit with that and won’t outright tell Louis they’re shagging yet. He knows he won’t be hurting for company if he wanders around or heads to the pub, but for some reason the idea of it makes him feel overly warm and closed in on. 

“Louis?” Laura asks suddenly, and Louis nearly goes over on his arse when he spins around. She starts laughing, a wide smile on her face. There are flowers in her hair. “You alright there?”

“Yeah, I was just --" Louis shakes his head, forcing a smile on his face. “Deciding what to do with the rest of my evening, I suppose.”

“Hmmm." Laura crosses her arms, fiddles with one of her rings. She’s wearing one of the bracelets that she’d designed special for the event, one that they’re all supposed to wear on the day. Louis’s suddenly gripped with a panic that he’s misplaced his in all the stress of the week. It’s nice, really, to shift the swirl of his feelings to something inconsequential.

“You’ve got extra of those, right love?" Louis gestures to his wrist, then hers, and Laura starts laughing anew. 

“Niall convinced me that half of our mates would lose them, so I’ve got a large store of them in our room, don’t fret." She tilts her head. “So did you decide?”

“Decide what?" Louis shifts his weight, rocking back on his heels. 

“What’s on for you tonight?" Laura asks gently, and Louis is absolutely positive she knows the ins and outs of all the rubbish he’s dealing with, in that moment. He’s seen her take the piss far too many times before, just this week even. 

“Oh, bit of this, bit of that." Louis clears his throat. “Thought it was Mums and Dads dinner tonight.”

“It is," Laura holds up a small bag, “I have something special for Maura I designed, I forgot it in the room. I was heading back over but I saw you struck still in the hall and figured I should check for a pulse.”

“Oi,” Louis feels at ease at her gentle go at him, his shoulders feeling a little bit lighter. “I’m not done for yet.”

“I’ll let everyone know, they’ll be pleased to hear." Laura’s eyes are bright, and Louis dismisses the thought that she’s being anything other than straightforward. 

“Think I might go somewhere quiet,” Louis’s not even sure why he’s saying it, the words tumbling out of his mouth almost against his will, “it’s been all go this week, think I need to recharge a bit before the big event.”

Laura nods. “Whatever you need,” she agrees. “You’re welcome, you know, at our night. Bobby won’t be in til the morning, so it’s a pretty quiet affair so far.”

“Nah,” Louis doesn’t want to impose. He knows it’s not the best venue to see Harry right now, anyway. “Hey, you know the cottage Niall took us to?”

“Yes, I am aware of what you got up to out there." Laura arches an eyebrow. “As much fun as it’s been to rub salve on Niall’s arse day and night, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea so close to the day.”

“Ah, sweet Laura, just wait until it starts itching." Louis grins. “You’ll be wishing for the days all he asked you to do was rub salve on it.”

Laura makes a face, rolling her eyes. “Okay, you can go back to looking dead in the hall now, you cunt.”

“I think I might go back out there, if it’s open." Louis says. “Do I need a key? I don’t remember Niall unlocking it.”

“The grounds are private, I think it’s open?" Laura steps forward, brushing a quick kiss to Louis’s cheek. “Give me a text if you need help, I can duck out again if need be.”

“You just want an excuse to get out of your plans,” Louis pops up a little on his toes to pull her into a hug, the bag she’s still holding swinging against his hip. 

“I know Niall would want me to, think he cares about you a bit,” Laura says into Louis’s shoulder. “You need a breather outside of your room, you get one.”

“Cheers,” Louis holds Laura a little bit tighter, “you know, Whitmore, I’m pleased that you and that Irish twat got pissed and shagged last year.”

“Me too,” Laura’s voice comes out all muffled, and the stem of one of her flowers is digging into Louis’s neck. “Funny that, how things can work out.”

**

It’s no problem to get back inside, Louis finding the place just how he and Harry had left it. He’d taken an alternate route there, wandering about the grounds and pleased that everyone else was seemingly spread around inside. As much as running into Laura had made Louis feel a bit cheered, he’s not sure he could have handled any more.

He helps himself to a beer, switching on the telly and finding the FIFA game Niall and Liam had been fucking up still paused. It’s calming, once he switches his phone to silent and sets it to the side, starting up a game of his own. 

Realistically, Louis isn’t sure if he and Harry will really have a chance to talk this week. At least, not the way they probably should. He’d been toying with just having a small stopover in London before heading back to LA, wonders what Harry’s plans are. It’s been so long since he wondered that. He lets his thoughts wander as he mindlessly plays, feeling boneless in a good way as he finishes his first beer and then slowly works on another, then a third. 

The door opens behind him, and he’s about to call out for Laura to leave him to his own devices when he tips his head over the back of the sofa, stretching out his neck, and nearly loses the game when he realizes it’s Harry, standing there with his hand on the door and his mouth open.

Louis comes back to himself enough to pause his game, situating himself better so he can face Harry. He doesn’t stand. 

“Haz -- Harry." Louis clears his throat. “Thought you had your plans tonight.”

“It’s --” Harry steps into the cottage fully, dropping his arm so the door swings shut behind him. “It’s midnight, nearly. I was going for a walk, sort of ended up here. I saw a light, and...”

He shrugs, the one he does that seems like it overtakes his entire body. 

“And here you are." Louis pauses for a split second, just enough to decide. “C’mon, have a seat then. Get a drink.”

It’s fucked, how Louis sounds like he’s hosting Harry. Like his Mum when they’d have someone other than family over when he was younger.

“Sure, yeah,” Harry nods, walking by Louis on his way to get a drink. His smell wafts over Louis when he does, and Louis has to fight to not close his eyes like a twat. He watches Harry make a vodka tonic slow like he speaks. 

“Just came out here to clear my head,” Louis breaks the silence when Harry settles on the chair across from him, tucking a leg under himself. 

Harry takes a sip of his drink, tongue darting out first to feel out the small straw he’d dropped in the glass. It’s something about Harry that Louis never got annoyed with, the peculiar way he encounters food tongue first. It’s charming.

“That’s why I took a walk,” Harry pauses to take another drink before he finishes, “had thought about seeing if you were up, but I’ve had a few tonight and was worried about, you know --”

Harry licks his lips slowly, Louis steeling himself for whatever he’ll say next, but then Harry’s laughing.

“The muddling,” Harry finishes. His dimples are so deep it’s like his face is sectioned off; too much to handle all at once. 

Louis groans. “You do talk some shit, Harold.”

Harry’s eyes are bright. He’s still grinning. “You have said that before.”

“And I’m sure I’ll say it again,” Louis relaxes back into the sofa again, the fact that Harry mirrors the movement not lost to him. 

“Well if I talk some shit," Harry shrugs, his laugh sounding a touch breathless, “then you’ll definitely say it again.”

“Thought this was Niall’s week,” Louis says lightly, sort of wants to freeze this moment while it’s good between them. See how long they can exist in this state of pleasant uncertainty, when Harry’s not afraid to let one of his too long legs reach out into Louis’s space. 

“I --" Harry starts, blinking and licking his lips again. He leans to the side, reaching down to set his drink on the floor. “Is that really possible, Louis? To avoid it?”

“I dunno,” Louis shrugs, hates that he can hear the uncertainty creep into his voice. He much prefers it when he can stay sharp. Stay protected. “We’ve managed for a long while, haven’t we?”

Harry’s face falls, the smile completely gone. He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak, then closes it again. Louis waits, knows that Harry needs patience sometimes when things get heavy. Louis had forgotten that, last summer.

“I know when we’d ended things, we’d said...about being so angry, you know?" Harry looks off to the side, his jawline standing out stark like he’s working hard to move it and force himself to speak. 

“I did, after you were gone,” Harry says quietly, looking at some distant spot on the wall, “hated you. Just for a bit. Just enough.”

Louis freezes, his head dropping down. He can’t say he’s not surprised, not really. There were as many days he’d let his pent up anger bubble up inside himself as there were he missed Harry, especially in that first long month or so. 

“Can’t say I didn’t deserve it,” Louis says to his knees, and when he looks up, Harry’s watching him with wide eyes. He looks scared, almost. Young. If there wasn’t stubble scattered across his jaw, his upper lip, if the softness of his face wasn’t melted away into careful lines, Louis could imagine he was looking at Harry a million years ago, when they were idiot best mates and sometimes all he’d want, even more than getting a solo on that week’s show, was to make Harry laugh so hard he’d nearly piss himself.

“It --” Harry bites his lip, exhaling. “It made it easier, you know?”

“I know.” Louis finds that it’s easy to smile. Harry smiles back, looking tentative. “I think we both did some of that. It was...it was shit, how things spun out in the end.”

“I know we’d said it was --" Harry shrugs, pulling at his bottom lip as he continues, “different people, different lives. But…”

“But what?" Louis tries to help Harry along, for once in his life unsure as to what Harry’s about to say. Not even a guess.

“Well." Harry drops his hand from his mouth, meeting Louis’s eyes, “look at us, we’re ending up in the same place now anyway.”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, because Niall decided he has to --" Harry cuts him off, his gaze intense.

“No, Louis, think about it." Harry laughs, sounding surprised. “I was just thinking about it, on my walk, like...we ended things, and it was a good idea at the time, but we did it so that we could come back with the lads, have the same life again.”

Louis opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“We were both so concerned with….I don’t know, a load of rubbish, hurting each other for no fucking reason. I don’t think we gave up, but looking back now, I just don’t know anymore.”

Harry’s staring at him, his eyes wide and sincere like Freddie’s get. Jesus.

“That’s putting a simple spin on it, Hazza,” Louis tries to sort out his thoughts. “I don’t see how…”

“Obviously I’m ignoring a long list of things, but at the end of the day…." 

“Harry, stop!" Louis snaps, feeling everything closing in. He keeps waiting for what Harry’s saying to annoy him, for him to find more fault with it than Harry hoping too much. But it’s not. And that’s terrifying. 

“I was just saying,” Harry continues, that calm and reasonable tone he gets. Louis wishes it didn’t work on him, like it hadn’t near the end. “What I was thinking.”

“We had real problems,” Louis insists, sitting up and rubbing his palm against his thigh. 

“No fucking way." Harry deadpans. “Louis, I still...some of why I hated you, for what it was, was how fucked up you were with me about Kumquat.”

“Harry, I know that --" Louis starts. 

“No, you want to talk about the real problems?" Harry runs his hands through his hair. “I understand it, I do, but that didn’t make me feel less like shit while it was happening.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing, I wasn’t prepared,” Louis whispers. “It was so much, and then you were there, and it was all I needed, the two of you, but I didn’t want you to know that. It felt unfair. How well you fit.”

The second he says it, Louis feels like he’s told all his worst secrets. Spilled them all, even to himself. He doesn’t look away, though. Faces Harry head on, who’s sitting there frozen, blinking slowly.

“ _Fuck_." Harry whispers. He looks down for a second, then back up at Louis. He starts playing with the rings on his fingers, biting his lip. 

“I didn’t really know that, at the time." Louis says as gently as he can manage. “It’s only recently, really. At the time, I didn’t want to upset your perfect LA life. I think I resented you for it.”

“No shit." Harry shakes his head, blinking again. His eyes are wet. “I think we both resented each other. It was too good, at the start.”

“I don’t think anyone really figured correctly, how the break was supposed to go." Louis shrugs, poking his finger in the small rip in the thigh of his jeans. “We were all out of sorts.”

“I liked it, having you around." Harry spins the ring on his index finger, round and round. “LA is home, most days, but having you there so much made it feel like I had been missing something, you know?”

“And then I didn’t like it, because I never knew what version of us we were going to be any day. Good, bad. I almost --”

Harry stops, laughing to himself.

“You almost what? Hired an assassin for me?" It doesn’t feel too heavy, Louis realizes. Any of it. All of it.

“I tried to convince Niall to just elope." Harry pauses, a half smile forming on his lips. “Begged him, really. I didn’t know if I could do it, go through seeing you.”

“Because you hated me so much, clearly." 

“That didn’t last long,” Harry says, meeting Louis’s eyes directly again. “But I didn’t know what was going to happen. Suppose I was afraid to find out.”

“Niall didn’t let you get away with that, then?" Louis scrubs at his face with his hands. “Liam’s had to give me so many pep talks, I think he’s the one who might hate me now.”

“I was relieved, almost, when you pulled that shit and weren’t there when I went to see you,” Harry smiles then, “and annoyed. It felt good, in a way.”

“Back to the status quo." Louis nods. “I get it.”

“That was fucked you did that, by the way." Harry reaches down for his glass, foregoing the straw this time when he takes a long drink.

“Not one of my proudest moments." Louis allows.

They sit in silence for a minute, Louis taking in the line of Harry’s leg when he kicks it out from under his other one. He can feel Harry’s gaze on him. Like they’re sizing each other up. 

“So, Louis." Harry says, breaking the quiet. 

“So, Harold." Louis reaches out his foot, touching his toes to Harry’s ankle. Harry smiles at him.

“What are we going to do about this mess?" Harry asks. The way he says it, it seems rhetorical, almost.

“No. Fucking. Clue." Louis punctuates each word, finishing it up by draining the rest of his beer. He belches.

“Charming." Harry remarks. He rolls his eyes. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Ah, we’ve made headway." Louis reaches for the controller next to him, holding it up. “Fancy a match?”

“Are you going to take the piss the whole time?” Harry asks as he takes the controller.

“And here I thought you knew me, Hazza." Louis navigates to the main screen. He sneaks a sidelong glance at Harry out of the corner of his eye, catching a flash of Harry’s dimple as he smiles to himself.

“Guess not." Harry says. 

**

It’s only two games, Louis soundly thrashing Harry like they both knew he would. 

They don’t speak as they pick up and walk back. Harry’s arm grazes his as they make their way, and Louis dares himself not to reach for Harry. He’s never one to lose. 

“Hey,” Harry says quietly when they get to the back entrance to the rooms. “I’m up another floor.”

“I know." Louis nods. “No muddling, Harry.”

Harry grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He leaves Louis at the end of his hallway with an entirely too brief embrace, wrapping his arms around Louis's middle and forcing Louis up on his toes a bit, like he's reaching toward Harry. 

**

“Lads! I’m glad we’re all here.” Liam is far too awake for this hour of the day. Louis is already regretting letting him drag him down here for brunch. The room’s practically empty at this hour, their table of four is the biggest one here. “I’ve been thinking.”

His phone buzzes and he gets distracted typing a response. Louis leans over, trying to see whose name is on the screen, but the angle’s all off. 

“Owww,” Harry says, scrunching down.

“Why are your giraffe legs all the way over there? How is that even possible?”

Harry makes a face, half amused and half still upset he’s been kicked. Louis makes one back. He really hadn’t meant to kick him. Harry’s toes connect gently with Louis’s knee. It’s… Louis pushes everything about it down, shifting so his legs are tucked further under his own chair. No muddling. 

“What?” Niall looks better than he had but Louis is still kind of surprised to see him this morning. It’s pretty early, and he’d have thought Niall would be resting up for the rehearsal dinner. Then again, they’d all taken it easy last night, and Louis knows he feels better for it, so it makes sense everyone else does, too.

Everyone except Liam. Fuck knows what he got up to. Louis inclines his head in the direction of Liam’s phone, trying get Niall to lean over and see who he’s texting.

“What are you doing? What is this?” Niall imitates him, looking genuinely confused. Harry starts laughing at them. Even though he clearly knows what Louis means, he doesn’t try to help. Utterly useless, that one. “I don’t -- _Louis_ , what?”

“You were thinking, Liam?” Harry prompts.

“What? Oh, sorry.” Liam talks slowly as he tries to text at the same time. “It’s just. Uh. I was thinking.”

“Ohhh.” Niall gets it, suddenly, and leans over. “Jade. Obviously. She said --”

“Oi!” Liam brings his phone up close to his chest, elbowing Niall away with his free arm. “That’s none of your business.”

“Wish I hadn’t seen it to be honest.” Niall makes a face at Louis and Harry.

“Get in!” Louis holds his fist out. “Just as friends, you said. I fucking knew it.”

“Come to my castle for a holiday,” Harry puts on a voice that sounds nothing like Liam, “we’ll have a grand time.”

“That’s not how it was!” Liam looks affronted, the tips of his ears gone red. He sets his phone face down and crosses his arms. 

“What was it you wanted to say?” Louis asks. “Before all the sexting, I mean.” 

Liam glares at him. “I wasn’t.”

“Jesus!” Harry yelps. “Why is everyone kicking _me_?” 

Liam winces. “Sorry, Haz.”

Harry yelps again, making a face. Louis assumes Niall must have kicked him, too. Good lad.

“ANYWAY,” Liam says, “The hiatus. That’s what I wanted to talk about, and since we’re all here and no one’s had any drinks, I figured we should, you know…”

“Talk about it?” Niall sets down his fork.

Liam nods. “Soberly. For once.”

“Here?”

“Why not?” Niall looks at Louis. “I mean, when else are we all going to be together?”

It’s a valid point. It’s just that, strange as it may sound, he hasn’t really thought about it. Sure, he’s been exceedingly aware that they’re coming up on the two-year mark, and the future of One Direction has played a huge factor in a lot of his decisions, and Niall’s getting married now because they’re on a bloody hiatus, but… The end’s still always seemed like it was farther away. Like it was an abstract thing instead of an actual deadline.

Add this on top of him and Harry deciding what the future holds for _them_ \-- Jesus fucking Christ. it’s like Niall’s wedding week has turned into Important Decisions for the Future week. Louis definitely would’ve RSVP'd no if he’d been warned.

“I wouldn’t want to do our old songs,” Niall says. 

“Any of them?” Harry lifts his elbow on the table and then rests his head on his palm, propping it up. 

“The older ones, I guess. The ones we’re sick of. The stuff we’ve toured already. Doing them again, night after night, it’d get old quick. I don’t want that.” 

Fuck, touring. Louis doesn’t know how that’d work, what with Freddie and X Factor and the label and all the other million things. Then again, he’s already away from him more than he’s home, so would it be that big a difference? He thinks about what he’d told Liam about not bringing Freddie on tour, suddenly rethinking everything now that it’s coming out of an abstract state. 

“Me neither,” Harry says as he touches Louis’s elbow, bringing him back to the table without drawing attention to it. He leaves his hand there for an extra beat; it’s reassuring more than anything.

It’s such a small thing, but it gives Louis pause. These three lads have had his back no matter what, even through the shittiest of times. And as much as he’s enjoyed what he’s done over the hiatus, it doesn’t hold a candle to what they’ve done as a band.

“Would we do a new album first?” Louis asks.

“Of course,” Liam looks at each of them. “We’ve all got loads of songs from the break, right? Haz said he’s got like, five books worth alone. I think we have enough.”

They all nod slowly. Louis feels the idea taking root. It occurs to him, belatedly, that none of them are actually questioning if they’ll come back, just what they’ll do when they do. The whole thing feels inevitable.

“So…” Niall trails off.

“First show back’s gotta be Sheffield.” Harry blinks when they all look at him. “What? I meant theoretically. It should be, at least. Like Louis said last night. Right?”

“Haz.” Liam’s smile’s so huge it’s blinding. “So we’re in?”

The business side of Louis’s brain kicks back in, going straight into overdrive. “There’s still --” 

“To talk about it. To start planning it, I mean.” Liam’s still grinning, but Louis can see the moment he shifts into business mode, too. “Obviously there’s more to like, figure out. Loads more, fuck, Haz, you’ve got to wrap up your projects and Niall’s got Laura and Louis--”

“Louis’s plate’s quite full already, yes, we’re all well aware, cheers.” 

Liam rolls his eyes. “So we’ll talk about it again. With management. Figure out what we need to do. Here,” he reaches for his phone, “let’s pick a date now, a real meeting.”

“Thought you weren’t setting dates, Leemo,” Harry says, sticking his tongue out when Liam scowls. 

“I wasn’t then,” he says. “But now that Niall’s not snuck half the bloody bar while we weren’t paying attention --”

“I was in pain!” Niall shouts, kicking Liam under the table.

It’s like a bloody jigsaw puzzle, the four of them with their phones out, trying to figure out when next they can all manage to be in the same place for at least an afternoon, but once it’s done, Louis feels like he’s got butterflies in his stomach.

“So we’ll revisit it then, yeah?” Liam’s talking slowly again, typing out a reminder to send what emails to which people next week.

“Yeah,” Niall says.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Louis feels like he did when they all got put together in a group, that same feeling he had when he’d started the label and when he’d first held Freddie. Like a million doors are suddenly opening all at once, and all he has to do is pick one and step forward. It’s terrifying and exciting; he hasn’t felt that way in nearly a year. It’s strange to realize he’s missed it when he hadn't even realized it was gone.

Across the table, Harry’s beaming at Niall. They’re all grinning, all of them in the same boat again. It seems like they’ve all missed this.

**

Louis wanders around after brunch, looking for a music room that Bressie had mentioned the day before. He chalks it up to them talking about things again; the thought of writing songs, of putting together an album, puts an itch under his skin. 

He hadn’t realized just how ready he was. They all are, really. Harry had pressed his hands to Liam’s cheeks, and then his own before Niall’d dragged him off for wedding business, asking Liam very seriously if his face hurt, too. 

“Both of your faces are hurting me, if that makes either of you feel better,” Louis had said. It felt so good. 

When he finds it, the room is small, just like Bressie had mentioned. “Just enough to get a bit of playing in, chief." At the time, Louis had nodded and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. But now, it’s different.

There’s a baby grand in the corner, and Louis is pleased to find it’s in tune. Although he supposes that with a place as posh as this it’s to be expected. He fucks about at first, just mucking around and playing things he’s known forever. Then he lets his instincts take over, playing through a new one he and Liam had tried out a few months back. The acoustics in the room are sick, so sick that when he finally gets to trying out the song he wrote about Harry over the last year it surrounds him entirely. He can’t remember the last time he really _felt_ a song as he plays it. 

“If that’s one of your new ones, then it’s definitely in the running for the new album.”

Louis lets himself play over the last few bars again, keeping his face forward and his shoulders steady when he answers Harry.

“Decided to stalk me, Hazza?”

Louis can feel Harry step closer, almost. “I’ve actually been ducking in here every afternoon, it’s soothing. Helps me get some work done.”

“Ah,” Louis pauses with his fingers over the keys, expecting it when Harry touches his shoulder lightly. He plays the intro to the song again. “I should have expected.”

“Haven’t been playing anything like this,” Harry’s fingers slip down, drumming his fingertips softly over Louis’s collarbone. “Only heard a bit, though.”

Louis finally tips his head back, the top of it grazing Harry’s stomach. Harry grins at him upside down, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Sit down,” Louis nods at the spot next to him, sliding over just enough that he’ll be able to play without reaching too far over Harry. 

“Alright,” Harry settles in, reaching over Louis and playing a quick scale. He’s not looking at Louis, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Oi, you can go ahead if you want to share something with the class, Harold." Louis wishes he could control his smile; it’s fucking embarrassing, how much he has to fight it.

“Soz." Harry looks over, raising his hands up in surrender. He nods at the keys. “I’m ready to have my mind blown.”

“As long as that’s the only thing you want blown." Louis says, starting to play before Harry can retort. 

He stumbles a bit, just at the beginning; he pauses for a second after and Harry reaches out and touches Louis’s knee. He leaves his hand there and it’s enough. Louis doesn’t sing as he plays, just hums softly.

“Do you have lyrics?” Harry asks, his voice low, and Louis doesn’t falter in his playing the chorus.

“I do." Harry squeezes Louis’s knee at that, and Louis chances a glance over at Harry. “It’s about you, twat, I think I’d rather keep it to myself.”

“I bet I can imagine,” Harry bites his lip. “I can tell, you know? From just, how it sounds.”

“Yeah?” Louis is nearing the end, and he adds an extra run to make it last longer.

“Yeah." Harry nods, his head bobbing in Louis’s peripheral vision. “Me too, Louis.”

“You really are a sentimental shit, you know?" Louis finishes, the room unbearably quiet after. Harry hums some of the melody a moment later, like he’s feeling it out. 

“You’re right, I am." Harry shifts, resting his elbow above the keys and turning to face Louis. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

“Did you just --" Louis laughs. “So much for this being a serious talk.”

“Do you want it to be?" Harry’s got that open look to his face, the one that kills Louis and makes him want to equal parts ruin and protect him.

“Never,” Louis says honestly. He sighs, continuing before Harry’s face can fall. “I do, I think this morning’s mini meeting proved we need to.”

“I think this whole week has,” Harry squeezes at Louis’s thigh again. It’s like an electric shock this time. 

“Hazza --” Louis says, Harry starting to speak at the same time. “No, you go ahead.”

“I was thinking," Harry says slowly, “I want to try. Us, I mean. Again.”

Louis exhales, the shakiness of it betraying how he feels. He hadn’t quite realized how scared he was that Harry would say the opposite. 

“Do you?" Harry moves his hand from Louis’s leg, reaching up to tuck his fingers into the neckline of Louis’s vest, tugging slightly. 

“I do." Louis nods. He opens his mouth to speak again.

“But?" Harry moves his hand, scraping his nails against Louis’s skin. Louis shivers into the touch.

“It seems easy, when you say it." Louis ducks his head, pressing his lips against Harry’s knuckles. 

“It won’t be easy,” Harry shakes his head. “It won’t, but I can’t go back to before now. We have to at least try.”

“You think I want to?" Louis looks up when Harry grips his vest tighter. “There’s so much, Harry, you know? To figure.”

“But if we know,” Harry says slowly, his eyes roving over Louis’s face, “that we’re figuring it, that’s better than not knowing and thinking every shag is a goodbye.”

“Well if we’re going to bring shagging back into the equation…." Louis raises his eyebrows. 

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “Lou, c’mon.”

“No, you come on.”

“Can you play it again?” Harry asks, speaking over Louis. “Sing this time? I can give you lyric notes.”

“You really want to hear it?" Louis can’t help the slight tremor in his voice. “It’s rough, Harry. Not all of it’s good.”

“Hey,” Harry tugs on Louis’s vest again, pulling him closer. “Doesn’t that fit us?”

He kisses Louis before Louis has a chance to respond. It’s quiet at first, Harry’s lips soft and closed against his own, but then Harry does something and there’s the sound of his arm hitting the keys. The music of it echoes in the small space when Harry cradles Louis’s face in his hands, licking into Louis’s mouth properly this time. 

**

When Louis finally tracks down Liam, he’s out at one of the tennis courts with Jade and a group of other people. They all look so happy, like nothing’s ever bothered anyone ever. Louis can’t imagine.

“Tommo!" Liam drops his arm around Jade to pull Louis in. “Was gonna see what you were up to, we’ve got a bit yet before the rehearsal dinner.”

“I --" Louis licks his lips, wondering if Harry had run off to Niall after they’d parted ways outside of the music room, just like Louis had to find Liam immediately. “Payno, I --”

“Louis?" Liam’s face falls, his eyes darting between Jade and Louis. “Do you need to --”

“Yeah, can we go for a walk or something?" Louis smiles at Jade. “You don’t mind, do you love?”

“Please, you’re saving me another match against this one,” Jade grins up at Liam. “He’s a competitive shit, yeah?”

“I --” Liam sputters, Jade and Louis laughing. “Oh, stuff it, you two.”

“Watch it,” Jade singsongs, kissing Liam’s cheek before she turns to go join up with Natalia, “see you later.”

“I’ll find you, oh --" Liam frowns, turning to Louis. “Don’t think she heard me.”

“You’ll be alright, lad." Louis takes a step backward, nodding his head. “Come with?”

“Yeah yeah,” Liam’s all business once they’re a few steps away, bumping his shoulder against Louis’s, “you alright, mate? Did you talk to Hazza?”

“I did, I --" Louis fights the grin that’s threatening to overtake his face, his cheeks hurting with it. It’s good, but it’s still so new and unfocused that he doesn’t want to go mad over it yet. “We ran into each other, think we’re going to give it a go again. Try.”

“Like…" Liam stops completely, Louis backtracking a few steps to give him a moment. “For real? You both want that.”

“Yes." Louis clears his throat, finding it hard to swallow for a moment. He squints against the afternoon sun, wishing he’d grabbed his aviators before he’d run off to find Payno. “We both do.”

“That’s good, Tommo." Liam’s grinning wide; Louis lets himself do the same. “As long as it’s not just to humor Niall and I, you know.”

“Didn’t realize you two were so into Harry and I fucking." Louis laughs at the look on Liam’s face. “Oh, come off it, I know you’re worried about me, but you have to go for it sometimes, yeah? Even if it doesn’t work out.”

“I wish I had recorded some of the things I said to you over the last year,” Liam starts walking again, Louis falling into step beside him, “so I could show you just how much I told you so.”

“It’s really too bad, Payno,” Louis pounces on Liam, dragging him into a headlock before he continues, “that the reason One Direction never comes back is because I hate you so much.”

Liam pushes against Louis’s side, the two of them going over in the grass and wrestling for position until they’re both on their backs, breathing hard. Liam’s hand lands on Louis’s chest as they lie there, the sun blinding when Louis stares up at the sky trying to ground himself. 

Liam pats at Louis’s chest. “It’s okay, Tommo,” he says, laughing, “I hate you too.”

“What a fucking week,” Louis pops his finger in his mouth to reach over and give Liam a wet willie, Liam groaning and rolling away. Louis turns his head, taking in Liam’s easy smile. He looks happy. “You’re alright then, Payno?”

“It’s been a good week,” Liam replies, his grin getting wider when he sits up, looking down at Louis. “So come on, let’s go make the most of it.”

**

Louis is fiddling with his hair when there’s a knock at the door. 

“Two minutes, Liam!” he shouts, making a face at his reflection.

“So what’s that, like ten minutes in Tomlinson time?” Harry asks, letting himself into the room. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“Because we’ve got so far to go.” 

Harry smiles at Louis in the mirror. He reaches out, smoothing down one particularly stubborn spot on the top of Louis’s head. Odds it’ll be out of place in five minutes are high, but for now it looks fine. 

“Thanks,” Louis says, reaching for his jacket. He hesitates for a second, feeling strangely unsure of himself before deciding fuck it and pressing a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth. They’ve already talked themselves dead today. There’s no use in acting like he doesn’t want to kiss him more often than not. 

Especially tonight. Harry’s got his hair down and his shirt buttoned just enough to be considered publicly acceptable. Louis fidgets with his cuffs to keep from touching the exposed bits of Harry’s collarbone.

“You clean up nice,” Louis says as they head into the hallway. 

“If you like this, you should see me out of the suit.”

“Oh my god.” Louis rolls his eyes. “That is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

“It is not.” Harry manages to look outraged, like his defense isn’t ‘I’ve definitely said stupider shit to you.’ Louis has missed having him around more than a lot of things. 

“Do we need to find place cards?” Louis asks, standing in the doorway to the ballroom where they’re having dinner. The room’s pretty full already; Louis hadn’t thought he was running that late, but maybe Harry was right to hurry him along.

“No, look, there’s Liam.” Harry tugs on Louis’s sleeve, nodding to where Liam’s waving. There’s only one massive table set up, making the room look like it’s prepared for a banquet or the Last Supper. 

The food’s sick, too. The setup had Louis thinking it’d be fine dining, but he should know Niall better than that. It’s all his and Laura’s favorite foods, nothing shit like shrimp macaroons or squab cubes. 

“This is how I’d do it,” he says. “Nothing fancy, just --”

“Greggs sausage rolls for everyone. Yaaaay.”

Louis flips Liam’s sarcastic arse off, making Jade laugh.

“It’s a _wedding_ , Louis.”

“Not til tomorrow, Payno.”

“Those squab cubes weren’t bad, though,” Harry says, squinting like he’s trying to picture them. 

“They were shit, Harold. You liked the, what was it, that pancake thing? With the lettuce.”

“Ohhh, the cabbage.” Harry nods. “You’re right, the squab was a disappointment.”

The whole meal had been a disappointment, one of those weird restaurants with foam appetizers and mindfuck main courses that looked like one thing and tasted like another, but it’d been a hilarious night because they both thought it was so fucking absurd. It’d been before they even started hooking up, in the early days right after he’d found a place in LA.

“I wonder what we’ll eat tomorrow,” Liam says.

“Nothing,” Niall says, shoving into the space between Louis and Harry. “Fend for yourselves.”

“Quick, Jade, open your handbag.” Harry holds out his untouched roll, making like he’s going to grab Meredith’s, too.

“Smile, lads.” Louis looks up just in time to see the camera. It’s just him and Harry and Niall in the picture, all three of them pressed in close.

“Can we do a nice one now?” Harry asks after. He taps his fingers against Louis’s knee. “No faces, Lou.”

“Alright, _Mum_ ,” Louis says, but he doesn’t stick his tongue out for this one. Harry’s palm curls around his thigh, a warm, solid weight.

“Excuse me,” Eoghan says into a microphone, “if the groom could return to his fucking seat.”

“Fuck off,” Niall says, laughing. He pecks Harry’s cheek and Louis blinks as the camera flash goes off again. Under the table, Harry squeezes his leg. 

Everyone is so relaxed, so happy, Louis almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. He stretches his arm across the back of Harry’s chair as the first speech starts up.

Leaning in close enough that Harry’s hair tickles his cheek, he says, “Bet you’re in tears before this one’s finished.”

Harry turns just enough to look at Louis. “What do I get if you cry first?”

“I dunno.” He raises one eyebrow. “What do you want?”

The way Harry’s smile slowly stretches across his face has Louis’s inhaling sharply and reminding himself they’re in a room full of people. 

“You’re on.”

**

“I’m just saying --”

“I know.” Louis wants to clap his hand over Harry’s mouth but he doesn’t. “You’ve been saying all night, and it still doesn’t count. You cried first.”

“This is unfair. How was I supposed to keep it together during that?” 

He’s got a point. Bobby’d gone first, saying he wanted to start so he could thank everyone for coming, and by the time he’d finished Louis is pretty sure everyone in the room had been a quiet mess. Still. “Emotional maturity, Harold.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry stops dead in his tracks and takes Louis’s face in both his hands. “Emotional maturity? Who are you and what have you done with Louis Tomlinson?”

Louis’s cheeks press into Harry’s palms when he smiles. Harry’s looking at him, dead on, that intense stare he gets sometimes, and it’s… fuck, Louis had forgotten what it was like, being Harry’s sole focus. It starts a fire deep under his skin.

“Shut up,” he says belatedly, too busy watching Harry lick his lips. Up this close, he can see how his eyes are still a bit red from crying. He curls his hand around Harry’s forearm, tugging just enough to get him to let go. The hall’s weirdly quiet, but they’d ducked away not long after Niall and Laura begged off, claiming a busy day tomorrow. If Louis listens closely, he can still hear music coming from the ballroom. Plenty of people are still down there, celebrating what’s to come. Louis is done with all that for now though, doesn’t care about anything else but the two of them. 

“Come on.” He keeps his hold on Harry’s arm as they walk the last few meters to his room.

“You’re --”

If Harry had an actual question, he doesn’t finish it. He’s too busy kicking Louis’s door closed, pinning him up against it. Louis would ask what he meant, but with Harry’s hands on his fly, he finds he doesn’t fucking care. 

“Harry,” he says, pulling back so there’s a bit of space between them. He doesn’t want Harry to go, he just wants a second to breathe. Time to take it all in. Last time it’d felt different, had that note of desperation, both of them wondering if it’d be the last time. This, though. After last night. After earlier this afternoon. He exhales, fisting Harry’s shirt to drag him back in.

This time it’s like a brand new blank page. He thinks Harry gets it, that he’s feeling the exact same things, because under Louis’s palm he can feel the hammer of Harry’s heartbeat. 

They’re both drunk enough that everything’s sloppy right out the gates. Harry’s mouth misses its mark and Louis gasps as he feels Harry’s stubble drag across his chin. He wonders if Harry’ll eat him out again. He wishes he would, but there might not be time for that right now. Louis is well on his way to achingly hard, and he can feel the way Harry’s chubbing up, too. 

“Fuck.” Harry’s fingers graze close to Louis’s new tattoo, making him hiss. It’s a good pain, sharp, gets Louis out of his head and back to the present.

“That’s the general idea.” Harry grins at him. Louis laughs despite himself.

“Gonna talk about it all night, then?”

“Don’t think we’ve been doing much talking.”

It feels like all they’ve been doing this week is talking, even though Louis knows that’s not exactly the case. He didn’t drag Harry up here for a bloody chat, though. In one quick motion he pushes off his pants and then makes a play for Harry’s. 

“Fuck, Lou.” Harry says, thumb dragging right under Louis’s new tattoo, closer this time. He tilts his chin, kissing Louis slowly before pulling back, resting their foreheads together. “Missed you so fucking much. Missed _this_.” 

“I know.” Louis feels like he’s all thumbs trying to get out of his shirt. This room is so bloody _hot_. He thought castles were meant to be drafty. This place feels like a fucking furnace. Harry’s all flushed and Louis knows it’s half wine and half him, and that’s -- Jesus. He sits on the edge of the bed, wondering if he should pinch himself. This whole week has felt like an extended dream. Half nightmare, half… whatever the fuck this is. 

“Alright?”

“Not really.” Louis wraps a hand round his neglected cock, eyeing Harry’s. He wants so many things right now his brain can’t settle on one.

Harry makes the decision for him, kneeling down, still in his dress shirt, and licking right over Louis’s knuckles.

“Christ.”

He has to close his eyes at the way Harry grins at him, his tongue out like it always seems to be. 

“Fuck, Haz.” He curls his hand in the duvet instead of fisting his hand in Harry’s hair. “This -- fuck, yeah.” It’s just like he’d remembered, Harry’s bloody mouth such a blessing. “Don’t -- c’mon.”

Harry pulls off eventually, licking his lips to break the trail of spit connecting them. 

“C’mon what?”

Louis’s brain is all white noise, but he fights his way through it. 

“Don’t be a twat,” he says, making Harry chuckle before rising up, pressing forward until Louis is trapped on his back and Harry’s looming over him, wanking him slowly. “There’s lube in my --”

“Yeah.” Harry fetches it without much of a struggle.

“Giraffe arms,” Louis says, trying to sound…he doesn’t know how. Not like his brain is slowly leaking out his cock.

“Do giraffes have long arms? I mean, I guess their front legs are their arms, right? But it’s not like, their legs are dispr--”

“Oh my god.” Louis is about to tell him to shut the fuck up when Harry presses his finger into Louis in one smooth motion and it robs him of the ability to think, let alone speak.

“Hmm?”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just digs his nails into Harry’s forearm. “Don’t fucking tease me,” he says.

“I wasn’t,” Harry says, like his second finger wasn’t just circling Louis’s rim. Like he didn’t used to do that all the goddamn time just to get Louis worked up.

“I know your -- fuck -- your tricks.”

Harry’s eyebrows go up. “Do you?” Louis isn’t expecting the way Harry slips that second finger without warning, but he’s not complaining. Some things should be different than they were last year. A lot of things probably should, but Louis doesn’t want to think about that shit now. 

“God.” Harry pushes Louis’s knee up to his chest and leans back so he can see. It’d be embarrassing if the look on Harry’s face wasn’t pure delight, a flush spreading high on his cheeks, his pupils as big as they’d been when he was getting inked. “Fuck, Lou, you look --“ Louis groans when Harry works a third finger in with no warning “-- you’re so good. Ready for me, yeah?”

“Fuck, yes.” Louis doesn’t care if he is or isn’t, he wants Harry now. He’s missed his cock, missed all of this. He’s shagged loads of people in his life, but Harry’s cock is a thing of wonder.

“Wait,” he says, when Harry leans away to search for a condom. “You don’t --”

He’s already aching for it, arse clenching now that he’s not got Harry’s fingers in him. Harry stares at him for a minute, probably waiting for his brain to catch up with what Louis has said.

“You’re --”

“Yeah, fuck, wouldn’t’ve said it if i wasn’t sure, Haz. I want you, and I’m --”

“Me too,” Harry says, like they’re being responsible about this. Fuck, it could turn out to be one of the stupidest things Louis has ever done and he wouldn’t bloody care. He doesn’t think he could ever regret it, especially not once Harry’s braced over him, one hand by Louis’s shoulder and the other guiding his cock in. Over the last year, all the shit, Louis had forgotten just how good this could be. 

“Don’t --” he says, voice straining as he waits for his body to adjust; he doesn’t want Harry to ask if he’s alright with this. Of fucking course he is.

Harry drops his head into the curve of Louis’s neck. “Shit, Lou.” He doesn’t move until Louis starts to, but once he gets the go ahead it’s relentless. “So fucking tight.” He takes a few strokes and then shifts, getting his weight on his knees so he can hook Louis’s legs over his arms. 

“Oh --” the rest of it is cut off when Harry nearly bends him in half. Louis’s cock is leaking against his belly but he can’t get his shit together enough to wank himself, not when he feels like he’s got to hold onto Harry so he doesn’t fall apart. 

“Fuck, Haz.” Louis can feel it in the soles of his feet, feels like he’s going to come apart with the way Harry’s dicking into him, hitting Louis just right like Harry’s memorized him. Which he probably has, Louis realizes; he knows Louis just as well as Louis knows him. 

“C’mon.” Louis works his hand through Harry’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss before tugging, just hard enough to earn a drawn-out moan. Harry’s panting, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Louis knows he’s going to hurt tomorrow -- they both will, probably, but fuck if it won’t be worth it.

All of this is worth it. It’s shit that it took them so long to realize. 

Harry ducks his head again, sinking his teeth into Louis’s collarbone as he comes. Louis tries to wank himself but it’s hard when he’s got Harry sprawled on top of him like this.

“Get off me, you --”

“Hang on.” Harry’s words are slurred, slow like he gets after a good shag, his eyelids drooping. 

“Jesus,” Louis says, arse clenching when Harry pulls out. He isn’t expecting Harry’s fingers to slide in immediately; it knocks the breath out of his lungs. His chest gets even tighter when Harry pushes Louis’s knees back, shifting until he’s close enough to lick around his fingers. “Oh fuck.”

Harry moans something in response; Louis doesn’t know what the fuck it is, doesn’t even know if it’s even words at all, but he can feel it all the way up his spine. He digs his fingers into his splayed knees so he doesn’t accidentally kick Harry in the face. The last thing they need is to try to explain away a black eye tomorrow. “Christ. Shitting, fucking, _Harry_ ” 

Louis tries to pull himself off, but mostly he squeezes his own cock while Harry licks him out. When he’d wanted Harry to eat him out earlier, the thought of this hadn’t even crossed his mind. Fuck. It’s --

“Alright?” Harry asks, sitting up a bit, tilting his head like he’s working out a kink in his neck. His chin’s a mess, lips red and swollen and Louis loses the last bit of coherent thought he has. He drops his head onto the pillows, biting the side of his fist. Harry ducks his head and chuckles against Louis’s rim. 

“You fucking sadist,” Louis says, but he thinks it comes out as gibberish. 

It doesn’t take much for him to come, and afterwards all he wants to do is melt into the bed.

“No, Lou, don’t, come on.” Harry doesn’t let him lounge very long at all, but at least he shoulders most of Louis’s body weight as he manhandles him to the loo. 

Louis probably takes too long in the shower, practically asleep as he lets the warm water beat against his back, watching Harry’s silhouette as he brushes his teeth and fixes his hair and then putters out of the room.

It’s Harry leaving that jars him out of his trance. Louis steps into the boxers Harry’d left on the vanity and hurries after him, finding him with one arm stretched under the bed, trying to fish out his shirt.

“Hey.” Louis runs his fingers over the stretch of Harry’s spine. “Don’t -- you should stay here tonight.”

“Yeah?” Harry blinks, looking dead on his feet as he stands back up. “I could --”

“Don’t be daft.” Louis pushes him to the far side of the bed, the one he always wants to sleep on. It doesn’t mean shit; they both know Harry’ll migrate to the middle over the course of the night, and Louis’ll wake up with a mouthful of hair, but still. It’s nice to crawl in next to him; it’s been such a long time since Louis has had his own personal furnace.

“Night, Haz.”

Harry turns, kicking his leg out until his toes find Louis’s foot. He manages to crack his eyes open one last time, smiling sleepily over the mound of pillows. “Night, Lou.”

Louis curls closer to Harry’s warmth and waits for the sound of his heavy breaths lull him to sleep.

**

Harry’s awake before Louis. That’s another thing that hasn’t changed with time. 

“Sorry,” he says when Louis stretches, his back cracking with it. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” 

Harry smiles, holding his phone close to his chest as he bends down to kiss Louis. If only they didn’t have so much to do today. It’s shit, knowing they haven’t got time for a lie in or a quick shag. There’s not even enough time for this, really, but Louis relaxes into the kiss for as long as he can. 

“Morning,” Harry says, pulling away.

“Morning.” Louis traces the faint pillow crease on his face. He feels happier right now than he has in ages. It’s startling. He really doesn’t want to lose this. Not again. He doesn’t think he could survive it a second time. He kisses Harry again, just because he can. “God, whose idea was it for you to stay over last night? Ten million points to that beautiful mind.”

“Ten million? Seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

Louis pretends to consider it before shaking his head. “Last night was brilliant, Haz.” He stretches, remembering just how bloody brilliant it had been. “Fuck, I’m so glad we’re doing this again.”

“We still have to…” Harry makes a face, taking his time choosing what he wants to say. ”We said we’d give it a go, yeah? And obviously we’ve fallen back into it really quickly, and yeah, last night _was_ brilliant, but Louis, we’ve --”

“No, I know. Of course I know that.” Louis sits up, waiting for Harry to do the same. They’ve talked and talked and talked these past few days but there’s still so much up in the air. So many things they’ve got to discuss if they don’t want this to go tits up again. “I just meant I’m glad that we’re trying this again. Second chances and all.”

“Yeah.” Harry kisses him quick. When he pulls back, his smile is small, like he’s keeping it guarded. “Me too.”

They could start now. Maybe talk about the Freddie situation, or what they’re going to do now that Liam’s got them all to agree to discuss coming back from hiatus. Or something smaller, like what their schedules look like coming up. When they’re both going to be in LA next. Anything.

But then Harry’s phone starts buzzing. 

“Did you set an alarm?” Louis laughs at the face Harry pulls.

“Who would set an alarm to vibrate?” 

“You definitely did,” Louis can’t stop laughing at Harry’s pathetic attempt at playing innocent, “oh my god.”

“I didn’t want to risk it! Whatever.” Harry swipes his thumb across the screen. “This isn’t even it, we woke up earlier than I -- hi, Niall, what’s wrong?”

Louis can’t hear what Niall’s saying. He doesn’t stick around to eavesdrop, either. Harry’s finished the call by the time Louis has finished brushing his teeth, and is just sitting on the bed dicking around on his phone.

“I’ve got to go shower,” he says.

“There’s a shower here.” Louis points with his toothbrush; he’s mostly kidding.

“Tempting.” Harry pushes to his feet. He’d gotten dressed while Louis was away. Now all he’s got to do is slip his feet into his shoes. “But we’ve got to be at breakfast in twenty minutes. Niall wanted to make sure I -- _we_ ’d be there.”

“And you didn’t tell him you died so we could skip it?”

Harry laughs, reaching for Louis. “Don’t think that’d go over too well.”

“No.” Louis leans up for another kiss. They’ve got a full day today and this last lads-only breakfast is only the start of it. This is sure to be the last quiet moment until the reception’s over. “Probably not.”

“I’ll swing by when I’m ready? We can head down together.”

Louis knows that means he’ll be sat in his room, waiting on Harry to finish up. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Great.” Harry goes, turning back just before he shuts the door. He winks. “See you soon.”

“Jesus.” Louis tries to look annoyed when he rolls his eyes, but he’s sure he doesn’t come close.

**

Sure enough, the whole day feels like a blur. By the time Niall and Laura are exchanging vows, Louis feels breathless.

He’s at the end of their pew, leaning into the aisle so he can watch the way Niall nods, repeating his vows. Louis had expected -- probably stupidly -- that he’d be fidgeting, nervously biting at the side of his thumb or some such while the priest talked, but Niall’s still as can be on the altar. His voice is unwavering as he says, “I do.”

Louis rocks in his seat, unexpectedly emotional about the whole thing. It’s a good emotional, but it’s still mental, that this is _their_ Niall and he’s getting _married_. If you’d told Louis about this five years ago -- fuck, if you’d told him about it two years ago, he’d never have guessed. It feels so different from everything else they’ve gone through together. Bigger, somehow. Realer.

“Alright?” Liam asks, mouthing the words over Jade’s head where she’s sat between them. Louis nods, exhaling shakily. He wishes Harry were in the pew with them, but he’s a few rows up with the rest of the wedding party. 

“I have to,” he’d said, right before the ceremony kicked off. “You know how Mick is. Can’t leave him unattended for one second.” At that second, Mick had been pissing on a statue in the garden as if to help Harry make his point. There was no way Harry would send Mick the ring bearer up the aisle and then abandon him for the rest of the wedding, no matter how pathetic a face Louis made.

“I do,” Niall says again. Louis blinks a lot so he won’t cry. It’s futile. Jade reaches for his hand, squeezing it. At first, Louis thinks she’s being kind, but when she does it again he looks over; she tips her head in Liam’s direction. He’s a weepy mess. Louis covers his laugh with a cough.

“Shut it,” Liam hisses at both of them. “It’s a _wedding_.”

Louis untangles their hands so he can reach behind Jade to squeeze Liam’s arm. It’s not like any of them has room to throw stones. They’re all seconds from losing it.

Liam gives him a watery smile. Louis exhales carefully. A few rows ahead, he watches the way Harry’s shoulders rise and fall, like he’s doing the exact same thing. 

**

Maybe it’s because they’ve spent the whole week here, but the reception doesn’t feel much different from any other night.

“Except for the ballroom, and all the tuxes, and the flowers, and the --”

“Alright,” Louis cuts Liam off. “You got me.”

Liam laughs, settling back in his chair. His tie’s already loose, the top button of his shirt open. He looks happy, relaxed. Louis is starting to think this week wasn’t just good for him and Harry. Maybe they should do it again. Annual lads holiday, or something like that. 

He doesn’t say, it though. Lord knows it’d be item two on Liam’s reunion agenda. Possible songs for a new album followed by possible locations for holiday, dates TBA. Louis can bring it up in a few months instead. Once they’ve all settled into whatever it is that’s coming next.

“Can you believe how intense he is?” Liam gestures to the table the table next to them where Theo’s playing some game on Greg’s phone. The only time he’s looked up is when the cake made its way out. “He’s so big now. I was talking to him before, he was telling me all about some show on YouTube -- actually pulled it up on the phone and I was shocked. I still think of him as like, a baby!”

“Thinking about how that’ll be Kumquat someday soon?” Harry asks as he drops into the empty seat next to Louis, cheeks pink from his latest spin round the dance floor.

“Oh god.” Louis shakes his head, even though the thought had crossed his mind.

“Soon?” Liam makes a face. “He’s only -- we’ve got like, three years or so.” Liam looks at his hand like he’s checking the maths on his fingers. “Right?”

“No,” Louis says, just as Harry nods. “Wait, what? Seriously?”

“Theo’s four.”

“Fuck.” Louis remembers when he was born, but it’s one of those things that seems like it was a hundred years ago. He tries to picture Freddie tucked away at a table like that, sitting quietly, entertaining himself. It makes his chest hurt. Harry squeezes the back of Louis’s neck, gentle and reassuring.

“Four’s a long way off,” Liam says, finality in his voice. Louis is glad to get away from this topic. “Did you abandon my date, Haz?”

Harry looks around for Jade. “Um… no? Oh, there she is. See? With Willie, by the bar.”

Liam’s brow smooths out when he finally spots her. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.”

“Liar,” Harry says, probably a little louder than necessary. They all know it’ll be a good while before Liam’ll be back.

Liam flips him off, blushing, while Louis laughs. “You can be such a twat,” he says, elbowing Harry gently.

“Says the King of the Twats.” Harry wrinkles his nose, still smiling. There’s a bit of green in his tie that makes his eyes stand out. Louis bites his lip and makes himself look away. They don’t need to create a stir here, not on Niall’s big day.

“I’m going to get a drink, do you need one?” 

“Just water, thanks.”

Louis nods, clapping Harry’s shoulder before he goes. He doesn’t really expect Harry to still be at the table when he finally makes his way back from the bar. The whole night’s been like that so far -- one of them leaving for one reason or another, it taking time before they can regroup. They always do circle back to each other, though, and that’s what matters. 

“Bobby’s looking for you,” Louis says much later in the evening, when he’s rescued Harry from a conversation about One Direction’s future with one of Niall’s distant relatives.

“Thanks. Liam’s looking for you.” Harry points to the far corner. “Well, he was, it was like twenty minutes ago, I just got sidetracked. You haven’t talked to him yet, have you?”

“No.” Louis laughs despite himself. There’s nothing amusing going on, he just… it’s been a good night. He’s not even pissed, it’s just been fun. “I guess I’ll go see what’s up. Bobby’s that way.”

Harry follows where Louis points and nods. He squeezes Louis’s arm before disappearing into the crowd.

“Looking for me, Payno?” 

“Louis!” Liam is _definitely_ drunk, his face flushed and eyes barely open, he’s smiling so big. He spreads his arms, giving Louis no choice but to accept a back-breaking hug.

“Your shirt’s buttoned wrong, you slag,” Louis says once his feet are back on the ground. “Christ, can’t you two keep it together?”

“Keep what together?” Jade is terrifyingly good at looking completely innocent. For a second Louis almost believes her, assumes Liam’s spilled something on his shirt and dried it under the blower in the loo. But then she says, “Oh look!” and beats it to the dance floor.

When Louis turns back, Liam is making a face that’s nearly apologetic. Louis hits him in the stomach. “Disgusting.”

“You’re just jealous.” 

“I’m really not.” 

“You are.” Liam pokes his cheek. “You and Harry could probably duck out for a bit. I’d cover for you.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, ducking out of Liam’s grasp. “But no thanks.”

“HARRY STYLES,” Liam yells. Impressively, only a handful of people look in their direction. None of them is Harry, but that’s probably for the best.

“Would you shut up?” Louis bites the inside of his cheek, trying desperately not to laugh. If he laughs now, Liam’ll think he’s won this conversation, and they can’t have that. “You are obnoxious when you’ve just got laid. Christ, I need another drink.”

“And _then_ Harry?” Liam tries to wink and then waggles his eyebrows. 

“Sure.” Louis nods. “And then we’ll find Harry.”

It’s a while before they get around to looking for him, though. Maura is at the bar ahead of them, and Louis lets himself get dragged into a conversation about Freddie that ends with him and Liam both pulling out their phones to show her photos. 

“Well,” she asks after Liam’s pulled up a video of Freddie plonking away at a toy piano, “no doubt he’s going places.”

“Definitely,” Liam says immediately. Louis is too busy watching the video replay to say anything. Maura takes one last look before standing, kissing them both on the cheeks. 

“Enjoy it,” she says, her hands on Louis’s shoulders. “It goes too fast.”

Louis looks past her to where Niall’s on the dance floor, spinning around in a lazy circle with Harry. They look like a couple of fuckwits, but they’re both laughing, Niall saying something that’s got Harry throwing his head back, his hair flying everywhere. 

Once Maura’s gone, Louis considers going out there, asking to cut in. It’d be ridiculous, though, and he doesn’t want to ruin their good time. 

In the end it doesn’t matter. Harry finds him when the song ends, showing up at his and Liam’s table with Niall in tow.

“Does Mrs. Horan know about this?” Louis asks, pointing between the two of them, their heads bent together like they’re a couple of year eight schoolgirls. “Is she alright with it?”

Niall laughs, reaching for Liam’s mostly-full beer. “Wouldn’t have married me if she wasn’t, mate.”

Niall’s always been happy but Louis doesn’t know when he last saw him like this. It’s otherworldly. And a bit contagious, because Louis finds himself smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. As mental as it was to rent this bloody castle for a full week, force them all out here, it’s been good. Well worth it.

He’d tell Niall that right now if he weren’t certain he’d be mocked for the rest of his life. He’ll save it for later. Put it in an email, maybe. Take Niall out the next time he comes to LA. If he ever comes to visit.

“Hey.” Liam looks around the table. “Where’d my beer go?”

He frowns when they all burst out laughing.

“Sorry, Payno,” Niall says, right before he drains the glass.

“To be fair, it _is_ his wedding,” Harry says.

Liam looks like he’s going to complain but Niall cuts him off, saying, “Come on. We’ll get a round for everyone, you and me,” and patting his back, urging him to the bar.

The room feels quieter with them away from the table. The places have all been cleared and people are slowly starting to leave. Louis wonders how long it’ll be until they announce last call.

Harry scooches around the table, moving seat by seat until he’s next to Louis. Yawning, he scrunches down until he can rest his head on Louis’s shoulder. 

“Tired?”

Harry nods. “Someone kept me up til all hours.”

Louis laughs. “Yeah, I remember how mad you were about it.”

Harry doesn’t argue, just kind of folds in on himself like he’s chilly. How, Louis doesn’t know, but Harry’s always run ten degrees colder than a normal person unless he’s sleeping. 

After a minute he bumps his elbow against Louis’s side. “Oh look. We’ve lost Liam and Niall.” 

Louis shifts his gaze just in time to see them make their way onto the dance floor. He doesn’t know where Jade came from, presumably somewhere near the bar, but she’s barefoot, her arms stretched up to wrap around Liam’s neck. Eoghan spins Laura directly into Niall’s arms, her laugh so loud it rings out over the music. 

The whole thing makes Louis’s heart clench. He’s been to loads of weddings, but none of them, not even his mum’s, have felt like this. He can’t put his finger on what’s different, but he doesn’t know if he really wants to sort it out. Maybe it’s one of those abstract things that he should leave be.

Louis tips his head, resting his cheek against Harry’s hair. 

“Wanna go up?” Harry asks.

Niall spins Laura, both of them losing their footing and finding it just in time to stop from falling. The song switches to something slow and sweet. The party’s winding down, but he doesn’t want it to end. They’ve still got a tiny bit of time left.

“Not just yet,” he says, feeling Harry hum something in agreement. Louis closes his eyes and lets the music wash over him.

**

“Haz.” 

It’s early enough that the sun’s not fully up, the light casting odd shadows throughout the room. The windows are on the opposite side from in Louis’s room. It makes everything feel a bit backwards. 

It reminds him of years ago, the two of them sat up in the pre-dawn light of their first kitchen, Louis sitting sleepily at the countertop while Harry worked through the shit things people were saying about him on Twitter. The nice things, too. The general overwhelming pressure that had become their everyday existence. 

“Harry,” he says, a bit louder this time. It’s enough to stop his pacing, get him to look up. “Come back to bed, yeah?”

“Your flight leaves at noon,” Harry says, sounding distracted as he’s climbing back into bed.

Louis stretches, inhaling as he feels the ache in his thighs. He checks the clock on the nightstand; noon is hours away. It was smart of Harry to wake him up early. Well, not smart, per se, but… Louis isn’t complaining. “Plenty of time for a kip, then.”

“I’m not tired.” 

Louis huffs a laugh, inching closer. They’re not quite sharing a pillow, but it’s close. Harry’s hair is still damp from his shower.

“Alright, Hazza?” he keeps his voice soft and even when he asks. 

Harry pinches his bottom lip, pulling it away from his teeth. Louis touches his side, dragging his fingertips along the waistline of Harry’s pants. It’s not meant to be anything other than calming, and judging by the way Harry’s eyes drift close and he breathes in, it helps.

“What’re we going to do, Lou?”

It’s a loaded question. A choose-your-own adventure where each option is laced with possible heartache and definite stress. Louis slides his foot along Harry’s calf while he thinks about it. It feels like there’s no right answer. At the same time, it feels like there’s only one. They’ve tried being apart and it didn’t fucking work. They both know that. They’ve got to stop being scared of the what-ifs, the possibility that they’ll fucking things up. They _definitely_ will, but… probably not irreparably. If this past year didn’t manage it, it’s hard to imagine something that might.

Maybe it’s a foolish thought, but whatever. 

“Well,” he says eventually. “We’ve got the reunion coming up. That’ll definitely keep us together.”

Harry rolls his eyes. His quiet laugh pulls at the knot in Louis’s stomach, loosening it a little. 

“And I was thinking…” Louis takes a breath and then another. They both know a reunion tour’s not enough. “I was thinking you could come stay at mine? In London. Until the meeting, at least. So we could sort some stuff out. Sort _us_ out, I mean. If you like.”

It’s quiet for so long that Louis panics, realizing he doesn’t know what Harry’s got planned. “Or not. I don’t know if you’ve got work until then, so obviously if you --”

Harry cuts him off with a kiss. “Yes. I’ll stay at yours.”

Louis touches his cheek, his thumb dipping into Harry’s dimple. He feels like he’s smiling wide enough that he could have one of his own. 

“Good.” The softness in his voice gives away how pleased he is. He kicks at the bedsheet, getting comfortable. “Now shut the fuck up and let me sleep before I have to drive with Jade and Liam back to the airport. They’re going to be insufferable.”

Harry’s quiet for a long minute, long enough that Louis starts to drift off, and then, “Wouldn’t it be smarter to sleep _during_ the ride?”

Louis opens his eyes. Harry’s leaning over him, his hair falling into both their faces. He raises his eyebrow, letting his free hand play with the hem of Louis’s boxers. 

“I mean,” Harry scratches Louis’s thigh, the gentlest of touches making him shiver, “if they’re going to be insufferable.”

“Interesting point,” Louis says.

“I thought so.” Harry’s biting his lip to keep a straight face.

Louis isn’t that strong. He’s laughing even as Harry kisses him. If he’s learned anything this past year, it’s that there’s no use fighting it.


	4. who’s making you shake?

Louis rolls over, pressing his face into the pillow and reaching out for Harry. The bed is cold, like he's been gone a while, and Louis lies there for a moment, trying to see if he can hear Freddie. The monitor on the bed is off, though, and Freddie's room in Harry's house is further down the hall than it was at Louis's old place. It's quiet.

Harry's got him. Louis rolls over, closing his eyes. He was up at half four anyway, it's Harry's turn.

"Daddy," Freddie's leaning on his chest when Louis wakes up again, squinting his eyes open when Freddie pats at his face. It's a little sticky.

"Someone didn't wipe your hands properly." Louis says, his eyes still half closed when he rolls over and buries his face in Freddie's tummy, blowing a raspberry until Freddie starts giggling madly.

"I cannot believe you're questioning my wiping skills when Kumquat and I made you breakfast," Harry's sitting cross legged on the other side of Freddie, a big grin on his face. "Let you have a lie in."

"Where is my breakfast?" Louis props himself up on his elbow, Freddie squirming around until he's settled against him. “I see no evidence of this.”

"Downstairs, I'm keeping it warm in the oven," Harry pulls the hair tie from around his wrist, gathering up his hair and making a face, "remind me to shower later, think there’s syrup in my hair."

"Reminding you to shower, stop turning me on." Louis laughs at the look on Harry's face, Freddie playing quietly with one of his toys that Harry must have brought in between them. "You can go now, I've got him."

"Nah," Harry shakes his head, moving until he's stretched out on his side, "I'm good now. Right, Kumquat?"

Freddie looks up at Harry at the mention of his nickname, his mouth splitting into a grin. He rolls over away from Louis, climbing on top of Harry and settling there, his face pressed to Harry's chest.

"Habba," he says, his eyes drooping closed as Harry rubs his back. "Habba."

"He's never going to get your name right, you know." Louis moves closer to the two of them until he's got his face tucked into Harry's neck, listening to both of them breathe.

"Don't really care," Harry murmurs, then, "go eat, Kumquat and Habba are gonna have a quick kip."

Louis takes a deep breath. "I'm good like this for now," he says. 

“Mmmm,” Harry hums, his arm bumping Louis as he continues to rub Freddie’s back. It’ll be a bloody miracle if Freddie gets a good kip in; his latest round of teething has been awful for all involved. 

Freddie keeps shifting, opening his eyes and patting at Louis’s face, whispering _Daddy_ and squirming around under Harry’s hand, Harry already breathing deeply. Louis knows that Freddie won’t sleep if they’re both in there; it’s rare he actually sleeps in Harry’s bed. Their bed, Louis corrects himself.

He waits until Freddie cycles through another bout of nodding off before he slips out of bed carefully, narrowly avoiding a pair of Harry’s boots that are scattered on the floor. 

“Shit,” Louis waits until he’s in the hallway to curse, half closing the door behind himself. He makes his way downstairs, laughing out loud when he sees the state the kitchen is in. Unless Freddie can be convinced he’s helping out and it’s a big game, cleaning up the kitchen with him can be a near on impossible task. 

He does a quick clean to the worst of it and makes an extra strong cuppa before he retrieves his pancakes from the oven where Harry had them warming up, sitting at the table and tucking in. It’s good; better than he can make anyway. He reaches across the table for his iPad, pulling up his emails and reading through the most important ones as he eats, taking his time.

“Thanks,” Harry says when he comes back down, Louis so engrossed in his response to Paul about an upcoming charity game that he didn’t hear them coming. “For cleaning up,” Harry finishes, coming into view when Freddie balanced on his hip. They’re both dressed and cleaned up, Harry dropping Freddie’s bag on the floor. 

“Don’t tell me my hearing’s so gone that I missed you showering,” Louis reaches out for Freddie, Harry handing him off with a grin.

“Nah, I made do with a wet flannel when I was cleaning him up." Harry stretches, touching his toes slowly before opening the fridge and pulling out one of his brightly colored juices. “You can check his hands, I didn’t muck it up this time.”

“Freddie, where are your hands?" Louis turns Freddie around in his lap so he’s facing him.

“Hands,” Freddie holds them out, Louis pretending to bite at his fingers while Freddie laughs.

“Passable," Louis ignores it when Harry rolls his eyes. “What do you think, little lad?”

Freddie looks down at his hands with a serious look on his face, nodding solemnly. “Yeah,” he says, pulling at the nightmare of a shirt Harry dressed him in, “passable.”

“Oh good, sarcasm comes in many different sizes." Harry’s grinning when he sits across from them, Freddie twisting around in time to laugh when Harry sticks out his tongue. Louis doesn’t have to look to know Freddie’s making the same face back. 

“You love it, please." Louis yawns, pushing his plate out of Freddie’s reach and pulling up his favorite game on the iPad. 

“If you want, I can drop him at B’s so you can shower,” Harry says slowly, scrolling through something on his phone. “I’ve got a class this afternoon, but I’m free after if you’re up to something.”

“Please, my son is right here Harold." Louis laughs at the look Harry shoots him, Freddie echoing it a second later like he’s Louis’s own surround sound. 

“Guess I’m busy later after all,” Harry’s fighting a smile when he looks back down at his phone. “Everything to do but you.”

“Come off it,” Louis goes back a couple of screens before Freddie can accidentally buy something. “You can take him though, I’ll text Briana and let her know to expect you.”

“Okay," Harry nods, looking at Freddie, “wanna go on a car ride, Kumquat?”

“YES!” Freddie yells, Harry laughing with a startled look on his face.

“Good, I’ve got a playlist I made just for you,” Harry starts, Louis standing up to hand Freddie to him so he can clear up his plate and avoid Harry droning on. Freddie loves listening to Harry talk enough for them both.

**

Louis’s alarm goes off for the third time in an hour. He sighs as he swipes the screen, silencing his phone. Another one’ll go off in twenty minutes and at that point, if they’re not out of the house they’re screwed. Which it looks like they’re going to be. Fuck, he shouldn’t have fallen back asleep.

“Honestly, Haz,” he says over Harry’s humming, some earworm of a song he’d come up with last week, “if you could move it along here it’d be great.”

Harry says something that gets swallowed up by the sound of the running water.

“What was that?” Louis asks, poking his head into the shower.

“Jesus _Christ_.” Harry loses his footing when he sees Louis, his hand sliding along the wall as he fumbles for balance. 

“We’re late enough as it is.” Louis steps into the shower. At least this way Harry can’t claim he’s the reason they’re late. “A pitstop at A&E would really fuck us over.”

“I hate when you do this. You disrupt my flow.” Harry tips his head back, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. 

“Your shower flow?” Louis reaches past Harry, trying to get a feel for how hot the water is. It is cramped in here. It’s not as efficient as it could be, but it’s quicker than waiting for the water to warm up in one of the other showers. And besides, Louis likes getting under Harry’s skin like this. Just enough to light a fire under him.

“Yes. Shut up.” Harry’s got shampoo running down his forehead. Louis wipes it away before it can drip into his eye. “And we’re not even late, so.”

“If we’re not out of here in twenty minutes --”

“ _Then_ we’ll be late.” Harry turns sideways, giving Louis room to step under the spray. “For right now, we’ve got plenty of time.”

Louis snorts. There’s no way this doesn’t end with them fighting in the car while Harry guns it through yellow lights. “You haven’t even started conditioning.”

“Maybe I’ll skip it, you don’t know.”

Louis pauses lathering his own hair and raises an eyebrow at Harry, who’s already working conditioner through the ends of his hair. 

“I said _maybe_.” 

“Mm-hmm.” Louis tips his head backwards, rinsing. 

“This is all your fault anyway.” Harry’s moved closer, his toes bumping Louis’s. 

“Mine? How the fuck --” 

“I would’ve been showered and ready to go by now if you hadn’t had a different plan.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Leave it to Harry to complain about a good shag. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

He points to the conditioner, wanting Harry to pass it, but Harry ignores him, blatantly staring at the water running down Louis’s chest. “I’m not even the one complaining now,” he says, and just as Louis is about to point out that actually they’re _both_ complaining, Harry turns around, reaching for the conditioner.

Louis works it through his hair quickly, trying to ignore the way Harry’s back muscles move as he washes up. Even after all this time he can’t believe how blank the canvas of Harry’s back is. Right now there’s just a mark on his arse, a bruise that Louis knows isn’t fully developed yet. He touches it, matching his thumbprint up.

Harry hisses, his back arching. It’s an even better sight than earlier, Harry bent over the side of their bed, cursing into his forearm. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Louis slides his hand around Harry’s hip, urging him backwards until they’re fitted together. Maybe they could be a little late. It’s just a dumb meeting to go over demos they’ve made this past year. 

“Oh, I think I could definitely finish,” he says, lips pressed against Harry’s shoulder. He can feel the laugh that rumbles through Harry. “You, on the other hand…”

“Get out of the shower, let me finish in peace.” Harry moves out of Louis’s hold, trying to shove him out of the way without actually shoving him. Louis lets Harry take the spot under the showerhead so he can rinse his hair. They really should get going.

He steps out of the shower, reaching for his towel. “You just want to wank before we go.” 

“You caught me,” Harry says flatly.

Louis checks his phone with his dry hand. “Fuck, Haz, we’ve got like, ten minutes.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“You have to hurry up!” Louis leaves the bathroom door open when he leaves, knowing Harry hates when he lets all the warm air out. Maybe that’ll move him along.

“ _Louis_!!”

“Nine minutes!” he yells, and smiles to himself when he hears the water shut off. 

**

“So Jeff was saying that Glenne said --” 

Louis tunes Harry out. He’s been telling this story for an hour already and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting to the good part any time soon. Who the fuck cares what happened at some dinner party neither of them were even invited to? Certainly not Louis. 

He pokes at his food, peering closer when he spots a mushroom. He nudges it toward the edge of his plate where he’s cultivating a pile of them. 

“And then Carole said --”

“Hold up,” Louis stops constructing abstract art with his food and points to Harry, “who the fuck is Carole?”

“From Glenne’s class?”

Oh, right. With the twins and the nursery drama. Louis waves his fork for Harry to continue and then goes back to sorting his veg. This plate is disproportionately heavy on the mushrooms. He has no idea where Harry hears about these pop-ups; Louis nearly always regrets getting dragged to them. 

“It’s like they heard me say ‘no mushrooms’ and then added extra just to fuck with me,” he says, only belatedly realizing he’s interrupted Harry. Oh well. It happens.

Harry frowns. “Do you want to switch?”

Louis eyes Harry’s plate. It’s all very green and wilted-looking. He doesn’t do a very good job of keeping a neutral face. “Fuck no. What is that, it looks like --”

“It’s okra.” Harry sighs, annoyed. It’s the same sound he’d made when Louis asked their waiter if this place had any real dinner rolls, instead of the gluten-free ones that had been brought to their table to start. And hypocritical considering how Harry’d been the one making fun of the cage-free sea bass they were boasting about on the menu.

“Ew.” Louis stares at it some more. Harry’s eaten most of it, so he must be enjoying it, but it does not look appetizing. After a beat he waves his hand, gesturing for Harry to continue his story. “Sorry, whatever, Jeff and Glenne and Carole, keep going.”

Harry waits for a moment, jaw clenched, before jumping back in. Louis’s phone buzzes and he checks it under the table. Liam’s sent him a snap of his new telly. It’s massive. _u should come overrrrr_ it says.

Louis waits until Harry’s fully distracted to snap a picture of his own plate. He’s in the middle of captioning it when Harry catches him. “What are you doing?”

“Uh… talking to Liam?”

“And you’re always complaining about _me_ being on my phone.” 

“You are always on your phone,” Louis points out. 

“Not when we’re out to dinner!” Harry pauses like he’s just remembered they’re in a restaurant. When he talks again, he’s much quieter. “This was supposed to be a nice meal.” 

“Okay, mum,” Louis rolls his eyes, “just because I was texting --”

“And being a prat” 

“-- and being a -- wait, what?” 

“You think I haven’t noticed you’re not listening to me? I have _eyes_.” Harry’s arms are moving like he’s tying his napkin into knots under the table. His face is blank, that bloody dead-eyed interview stare he gets when he’s at the end of his rope. “Next time we’ll just stay home if you’re going to be like this.” 

“Like _what_?” It’s too public for this. Louis concentrates on keeping his voice down. 

Harry looks like he’s struggling to do the same, leaning forward to make his point. “You’ve been sitting there sulking all night, playing with your food and complaining to the staff. I know you wanted to stay home again, but we’ve done that every night for the past two weeks.”

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Louis opens his palms, gesturing to the restaurant. “And I’ve been listening to you! Glenne’s friend doesn’t want to shell out eighty grand for her three year olds! And I agree with Carole, that’s obscene!” 

Harry opens his mouth and then closes it, his jaw set. Louis rolls his eyes. When it becomes clear Harry doesn’t have anything else to say, he shrugs and goes back to his dish, trying to find the last of the good bits.

He’s still poking at it when the waiter comes round and Harry asks for the check. 

“No room for dessert?” Their waiter smiles hopefully. Louis is still hungry but Harry shakes his head immediately. So that’s that.

Louis sighs. It’s never a good sign if Harry’s too upset to make small talk. The sit in silence until the waiter comes back with Harry’s credit card. Louis resists tapping his fingers on the table. He feels like he should say something, he just doesn’t quite know where to start. No matter how long it’s been, he hates fighting with Harry. It’s always over the dumbest shit.

“Hey,” he says, nudging his toes against Harry’s foot, “sorry. I didn’t mean --”

“I hate when you do this.” Harry shakes his head, signing the bill. “I even showed you the menu before we made the reservation, you said it was fine.”

“I know.” Louis genuinely feels bad. It had started out well enough, the two of them laughing at the pretentious, discombobulated menu. But then Harry’d stopped laughing as Louis kept going and now, well. Now they’re here and neither of them is laughing.

He stands up when Harry does, following him outside. They stand silently as they wait for their car to be brought round. Louis rocks on his heels, opening his mouth a dozen times before deciding against it. Everything he wants to say sounds stupid.

“I don’t care where we go,” Harry says once they’re in the car, “I just wish you wouldn’t be such a twat when we’re somewhere you don’t like.”

He sounds tired. Louis slumps in his seat. “It wasn’t intentional,” he says. It’s just how he is. Harry of all people should know that by now. Louis should probably be able to control it a bit more, but he’s never been big on self-censoring. 

They drive a bit without saying anything, the radio playing softly, some shit top-40 song neither of them likes. Changing the station feels like it would disrupt something, though, so Louis sits on his hands and watches the lights blur on the freeway.

“I was having a good time, though,” Louis says eventually. He had been, up until like halfway through, when Harry’s story got impossibly long and his disappointing meal arrived. Harry needs to know it wasn’t bad from the get go, that Louis wasn’t miserable being there. “Despite all the mushrooms.” 

Harry laughs, a sharp burst of sound that seems like it surprises him. Surprises them both. He shakes his head. “I told you to send it back.”

“I didn’t want to make a scene!”

“Louis Tomlinson didn’t want to make a scene.” Harry looks over at him, wide-eyed. 

“Piss off.” Louis pushes Harry’s arm gently. They’re nearly home now. Louis squeezes Harry’s bicep. “I really am sorry.”

“Thanks. It’s alright.” Harry smiles over at him. “Next time you’re picking the restaurant, I’ll complain about it endlessly, and then we’ll be even. And,” he points the second Louis opens his mouth ,“if it’s any sort of fast food place I’m making you sleep in the pool house.”

“We _never_ get to do anything I like!” Louis complains, finally relaxing when Harry bursts out laughing.

**

There’s a stack of papers on the dining room table, each page awaiting at least a thousand signatures, judging by all the post-it flags dotting the edges. It’s the bane of Louis’s existence. 

“You said they’d be signed by the time I got in,” Liam says. “Harry was my witness!”

“When do you get in again?” Louis thumbs at the papers, wondering if he can pass them off as Harry’s instead of his. There’s so much paperwork involved with ending this hiatus and they still haven’t even officially decided anything.

“In time for dinner tomorrow.”

“Right, right. Haz and Niall when to the store earlier, think we’re in for a BBQ.”

“Really?” He can practically hear the grin on Liam’s face.

“That or Haz secretly bought a pet tiger and that’s who all the steaks are for.” They’d come back with an insane amount of food; Louis had tried faking a hamstring injury to get out of unloading all the bags from the boot. It hadn’t worked for even one second. 

“Where would you even keep a tiger?”

Louis shrugs. “The garage, probably.”

There’s a pen near the stack of papers. He grabs it, scanning over the first page, signing where it’s required. The rest of the lads have all signed theirs already; it’s not like getting through this requires much concentration.

“I think a BBQ’ll be sick,” Liam says. “It’ll be good to make sure we’re all on the same page before Friday.”

Louis isn’t sure how much shop talk they’ll get around to once all four of them are back together, but he says, “Yeah, exactly. Nail down all the important points before the pressure’s on.”

It’d seemed simple when they’d talked about it back at Niall’s wedding, the four of them gung-ho about ending the hiatus. But everything’s always easier in theory. They’ve got an entire week of meetings coming up, deadlines to set and agreements to reach. Louis knows this isn’t the last stack of papers he’ll be signing. It’s a long ways to go before they’ve got anything resembling an official plan.

“Honey, I’m home!” Niall’s voice carries through the whole house, loud enough that even Liam laughs.

“In here!”

“Tell them I say hi!” Liam says.

“You’re going to be here tomorrow, tell them yourself.”

“Put me on speaker and I will.”

“I’m not putting you on speaker.” Louis rolls his eyes before turning toward the doorway. “How’d it go?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Niall says at the same time as Harry says, “Crushed him.”

“Sick, babe.” Louis tilts his head up to kiss Harry hello before holding his fist out so they can bump knuckles. “Well done.”

“I still think you cheated when I wasn’t looking,” Niall says.

“What’d he say?” Liam asks.

Harry makes a face. “You hit your ball out of bounds on two separate holes but somehow it’s impossible that _I_ won?”

“What? Louis, what’s going on?”

“Golf shit, Payno,” Louis signs another three lines, “nothing that actually matters.”

“Heyyy.” Harry flicks Louis on the shoulder. 

“I’m putting this back in the fridge, then,” Niall says, Louis looking up in time to see he’s brought them all beers.

“Wait, no, this is my house, you can’t take beers back from me.” Louis holds out his hand, making a grabbing motion. He tries to ignore Harry’s small, pleased smile. It’s been months now. He’s got to stop doing that anytime Louis refers to this place as home. Especially because it bloody well is his home.

“Tommo! You’ve got to sign those papers first. HARRY, NIALL, WHOEVER --”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis jerks the phone away from his ear when Liam starts yelling. Harry laughs and takes it from him.

“He’s signing them right now, Liam, don’t worry. No, I know I promised you they’d be done and they will be. I just -- I just said he was signing them! What do you want me to do, tie him to the chair?”

“Tell him I don’t like that as much as you do,” Louis says, signing another page. Harry laughs. Across the table, Niall makes retching sounds.

“Don’t worry,” Harry says, turning sideways in his seat so he can wedge his toes under Louis’s thigh, “I’ll make sure he gets it done. And Niall’s here too. He’s got no escape routes.”

Niall gives Harry a thumbs up without looking up from his phone. Laura’s back home, stuck at work while Niall’s out here. Also stuck at work, Louis knows, but it seems unfair when he gets to golf and fuck about with the lads like it’s a mini holiday.

Louis signs his name and then turns the page over with flourish. 

“He’s like, almost a quarter done,” Harry says. His smile slides right off his face. “Excuse me, Liam, I am not _lying_ to you. Why would I do that?”

“Because you love me,” Louis stage whispers. Harry wiggles his toes; when Louis looks up, he’s got that same small smile on his face, his dimples barely visible. It feels a bit like looking directly into the sun.

“Why would you cheat at golf?” Niall asks. “We all have questions.”

“I did not --”

Louis grabs his phone back before Harry starts yelling. 

“I’m signing them right now,” he says. “I promise you they’ll be done before you get here, which had better be quick because if these two kill each other over a bloody round of golf and it turns out I signed all this shit for nothing, I swear to god.”

“Who cheats at golf? Was there money involved?” Liam asks, as if Louis hadn’t said anything at all. Harry and Niall are still arguing, Niall getting louder while Harry uncurls from his seat and stands up like he could ever be intimidating. 

“Who the fuck knows, Payno.”

“You landed in three separate sand traps!” Niall’s face is getting red. Louis doesn’t know if he really thinks Harry cheated or if he’s just busting his balls, but either way he’s hilariously worked up. “I’m supposed to believe you miraculously recovered from that disaster?”

“You’re supposed to believe the truth,” Harry says, changing his tone, going for irritatingly calm. Niall scoffs.

“You should change your flight,” Louis tells Liam. “Get in earlier. Save me from this madhouse.” 

“Could do.” Liam’s voice dips out; Louis wouldn’t put it past him to be looking up earlier flights.

Harry pulls the scorecard out of his pocket and starts reading aloud. “Oh, hole six -- you chipped it into the water straightaway.”

“So did you!” Niall throws up his arms. “Let me see that, you probably added it up wrong, we all know you’re shit at maths.”

“I am not. Louis, tell him I’m not shit at maths.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Can you believe we’re willingly doing this again?” he asks Liam, picturing all the upcoming days in the studio, nights flying to new venues, the four of them back in each other’s pockets. Everything old being new again.

“I know. I’m excited, mate.”

Louis watches Niall count under his breath while Harry grumbles about his maths being perfectly fine. He catches Louis’s attention and rolls his eyes, grinning wide. Louis shakes his head, fighting his own smile and rubbing at his chest where it feels like his heart’s trying to squeeze out of his ribcage or something. Fucking hell.

“Yeah,” he says, a bit stunned by how right Liam is. It won’t be like it was, but he thinks that’s probably a good thing. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please [tell Nims](http://rubycurls.tumblr.com) how much you love her artwork!! You can talk to us on tumblr too, [irishmizzy](http://irishmizzy.tumblr.com) and [miss_bennie](http://miss-bennie.tumblr.com). The fic post is [right over here](http://irishmizzy.tumblr.com/post/139976439615/we-both-knew-the-cost-irishmizzy-miss-bennie).


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